


Antagonist

by DWilde1891



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Humour, M/M, Magic Revealed, Politics
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-16
Updated: 2015-07-19
Packaged: 2018-03-23 07:26:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 29,963
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3759598
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DWilde1891/pseuds/DWilde1891
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Merlin declares himself Emrys before the Court of Camelot. The law dictates he flee or face execution.</p><p>Arthur is left behind to pick up the pieces. Working out the difference between knowing Merlin and understanding Emrys. Who he is, what it means, and the destiny they must face together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a sort of slow burn.
> 
> I've skipped quite a lot of the falling in love stuff because I'm not very good at all that, but hit the exploration of their relationship following a magic reveal because I think that's where the drama is. 
> 
> FYI there will be typos. Otherwise forgive me and enjoy!
> 
> All kudos and comments hugely appreciated.

Somehow Merlin thought it would be raining. In all of his dim imaginings of a future in which he had been banished from Arthur's side it had been grey, cold, with wind tugging at his neckerchief. Water seeping deep beneath his bones.

Instead it was the height of summer. Bright blue skies and open fields, birds chirping happily in the trees. Merlin was certain that if he let his magic lash out a storm unlike any known on these shores would rock and ruin the lands of Camelot. Flood her rivers and drown her crops. Fell trees, thunder striking the towers of the citadel and wind blowing away poorly made settlements.

For a long moment he stopped to breath and seriously considered it. His heart ached with the deep twisting burn of betrayal.

Only that would prove Arthur right. That sorcerer's were vicious and untrustworthy. And it would destroy too many lives needlessly.

Closing his eyes, Merlin took a deep breath and allowed the sun to settle on his skin. He stood open in the fields just outside Camelot. Arthur's Knights, his friends, streamed past him in red cloaks. Unseeing as Emrys stood among their patrols. Listening to the urgent chiming of bells, ringing out to alert the world that an enemy had escaped.

Enemy. Antagonist.

This world was as much his as it was Arthur's. More. Because he could feel it all. The steady endless thrum of life beneath his boots. The gentle caress of the wind. Magic truly existed in everything. Earth and man alike. Capable of unknown wonders. And evils.

Flicking his eyes open, Merlin shifted his image and continued to stride away from Camelot. For the moment he felt nothing but the earth and let that guide him. Arthur had made a mistake in driving him away and Merlin was confident that he would understand that soon enough.

It was either that, or Albion would become eclipsed in the darkness Merlin could feel pressing in on the horizon. War was coming and he had work to do.

\--

"There is nothing Sire."

Arthur felt the corner of his eye twitch. Guinevere remained stoic at his side, her hands clasped before her. Watching carefully.

"He walked out the castle steps before everyone." Arthur growled, "How could he have just vanished without trace?"

Leon opened his mouth to say something, then quickly closed it. There was no need to pour salt onto an already bleeding wound. The answer was obvious. Merlin was a sorcerer, he could damn well do what he wanted.

Arthur flicked his hand, "That'll do for now. Thank you Leon."

Bowing his head, Leon departed. A batch of Knight's at his back. Arthur rubbed a hand on his brow and reached for a cup of wine. His nerves were shaken and he was struggling to think in a straight line. The rawness of Merlin's betrayal was making it difficult to breath. The heat of summer wasn't much helping either.

Gwen pulled out a seat on the council table and sat down, pulling over a batch of papers, her lips pursed, "We will find him Arthur."

"No. We won't."

Arthur knew it with certainty. Merlin had been at his side for ten years. Ten years. And that secret had remained concealed until today, when his manservant had stepped forward and tore up the world beneath his feet.

If Merlin didn't want to be found, he wouldn't. It was as simple as that.

Fury suddenly gripped him. Arthur crushed the cup in his fist and sent it flying across the room where it clattered meaninglessly against the stone wall. It wasn't enough. Striding to the tapestry's that spoke of Pendragon glory, he tore them from the wall. Kicked over his throne. Sent the crown at his head flying, so it lay bent and battered near the servants entrance where Merlin would come and go. Always a quick smile and even quicker wit at hand to make these sessions more bearable.

"-please! Arthur! Stop!"

The words felt distant. Blood was rushing in his ears, he couldn't breathe. All he could see was that look on Merlin's face when he was accused.

"Arthur!" a soft hand gripped his and he stopped, suddenly.

He realised he was gripping the window frame, looking out onto the castle courtyard where he'd last seen Merlin only a handful of hours before. Striding confidently, brushing aside his guards without even a single gesture of his hand. A different walk. Not the clumsy gait he recognised. Merlin was not running for his life. Then where was he going? What could he possibly be planning?

Why wasn't he afraid?

"I don't understand." his voice was hoarse, "Gwen."

Her hand ran softly down his back, she was trembling, "Arthur... I don't know what to say that could make this better."

"Then give me your council." he turned to her, trying to reign in his desperation, "This does not make sense to me."

Gwen bit her lip, she seemed troubled, brow creasing as though holding back from something she knew he didn't want to hear.

"Guinevere, please." his spoke softly, rage fading into a vast sadness he couldn't feel the edges of.

"I do not believe Merlin to be your enemy." her voice was hushed but her expression was calm and certain.

Arthur's eyes screwed shut. It was precisely as he feared. Taking a slow, deep breath he listened to the castle as it continued around him. The creak of carts. The clack of horses hooves. Doors opening. Doors closing.

"Ten years." he said quietly, "How could he do that to me for ten years?"

"Arthur..." she didn't want to say it, but Arthur needed to hear it, "If he had come forward, his life would have been forfeit."

"His life _is_ forfeit." Arthur gritted his teeth, "That is the law."

"Yes." Gwen nodded, biting her lip once again, before flashing a small, playful smile, "However, I believe you can take some comfort from knowing that following rules have never been one of Merlin's strengths."

Arthur closed his eyes again and rested his forehead against the glass. He already felt the ache of separation. He didn't know what he was supposed to do now. How he was supposed to continue carrying out the business of King when the one person he had trusted above all others was gone. Arthur was missing his shadow.

"What do I do Guinevere?" he asked, reluctantly looking at her. His sweet, beautiful wife that he had raised up as Queen and amazed him each and every day.

"What you always do." she rested her small hand against the place where his heart was supposed to rest, buried beneath chain mail, "What you believe to be right."

He sighed, "I was afraid you'd say that."

Merlin usually did that for him. Or cajoled Arthur relentlessly until he reached the most sensible and compassionate conclusion on his own...and clearly, Merlin had been cajoling him on this for years.

"Dammit." he pushed away from the wall and collected his crown from the floor, righted his throne, "Send someone to fix the tapestry. I have trainees to beat into shape." and with that he was gone.

Gwen took a deep breath and slumped, relieved, against the wall. Queen's weren't supposed to slump but on this occasion she thought she deserved it. Arthur had never broken down like that. It had never been how he handled his anger. By nature Arthur usually dragged it all in, siphoning frustration onto Merlin and keeping anything else to himself until it blew over. This was different.

Arthur had attacked his own throne room, his own legacy as King. As though it had no purpose now.

It scared her a little, as she worked through the logical implications of this attack on a duty he had always treated with care bordering on reverence. Arthur was proud of his Kingship, of his people, groomed as a leader and protector of a nation from the first day of his birth. His crown was dented now.

All because a manservant had revealed himself sorcerer and betrayer. No, Gwen didn't approve of the implications of that. At. All.

\--

The sun was setting by the time Merlin reached to the cabin he'd highjacked during his Dragoon period. If Arthur had any sense he'd look here first, but considering the mess he'd left behind, Merlin was quite sure it would take him quite some time to work that out.

So he set up some wards and headed through to the main room. Eyes glowing out of reflex when he heard movement. The fire lit and the person who had jumped up at him was frozen mid stride.

"Gwaine." Merlin's eyes narrowed, "What are you doing here?" when he said nothing Merlin rolled his eyes, releasing mouth and vocal chords, "Well?"

Gwaine coughed, "Merlin! Could you. This is weird." his eyes were still facing forward and his mouth was twisting in annoyance, "I swear I'm not here as a Knight of Camelot. I'm here as a friend."

With a twitch of his finger's all of Gwaine's weapons detached and clattered at Merlin's feet. Including a questionably concealed dagger that left a tear on the inseam of Gwaine's leather breeches.

"I warned you about carrying weaponry there." Merlin stated, releasing him.

"Oh you know. Old dogs, new tricks and all that." Gwaine shrugged, smiling without his usual gleam of confidence, "Merlin." he went to step forward, and Merlin stepped back, "I swear I'm not your enemy...and even if I weren't you could take me anyway."

Merlin rubbed his eyes, "It's not about that Gwaine."

"I know." he half smiled, "You can trust me."

"Where do they think you are?"

"Nowhere, yet." Gwaine said quietly, "I broke off."

"Why? And how did you know to come here?"

"I deduced..." his lips twisted, "Awhile back, actually."

Merlin's eyes narrowed again and Gwaine hoped his confident bearing would disguise just how frightened he was. Unlike the rest of the Knight's, he'd travelled a little, been a little less choosy about his company. When Arthur had demanded the truth in this morning's council meeting-was Merlin who the Druid's called Emrys?-Gwaine could flatter himself a little that he knew what that truly meant.

"What do you want from me?" Merlin asked, ignoring Gwaine to fill the pot he kept near the fire with some water recently gathered from the stream.

"I wanted to check that you were okay!" Gwaine reached out and grasped Merlin's forearm, swinging him round, "You're my friend Merlin and today you did the most stupid thing I've ever seen anyone do."

"I admitted the truth." Merlin's voice was low, his cool, fierce expression one Gwaine didn't recognise, "It was about time I did."

"Yes!" Gwaine cried emphatically, "But why now!"

Merlin searched him. Gwaine gripped his arm all the more firmly. All of this was unnerving him. The casual use of power, Merlin's caution, measuring how far he was willing to trust. Each and every day the sort of thing he usually concealed beneath a bright, playful mask. Overworked and unacknowledged, just as any other servant in the castle. Close to the King. Too close many would say.

"My decision to trust you will weigh your future." Merlin spoke slowly, softly, some familiar compassion creeping in beneath the coolness of his expression, "Are you willing to betray your King for the sake of knowing a little of his enemy's plans?"

"Only a little?" Gwaine asked, smiling weakly.

"To know more would endanger you, should you choose to take up the Pendragon colours again." he spoke seriously, dark eyes glittering in the firelight.

"You presume to know me too much Merlin." he smiled, warmly this time, "My loyalty was always yours first."

Merlin blinked as though he hadn't seen that coming. That someone could know him and Arthur, yet still choose him first.

"Gwaine..."

"Merlin." he raised a hand to his cheek, delighted that Merlin hadn't stopped him, fingers curling across those incredible cheekbones and slipping beneath his raven hair, "I'm with you. Whatever you need, whatever you're planning, whatever you choose to share with me. I don't care about being one of Arthur's knights. I only care that you'll be okay."

Merlin took a deep breath, wrapping his long finger's around Gwaine's and gently slipping it away from his face, "I thought we agreed to stop being so familiar with one another."

Gwaine shrugged, "Seems like that kind of day."

Then a smile broke through the deep frown he'd been wearing since this morning. A great beam of light so bright and warm Gwaine felt his breath catch. Merlin laughed, "Yes. It has been exactly that kind of day."

Gwaine's smile grew cocky, "So you'll let me stay?"

"I don't know why you would." Merlin said softly, drawing away and heading to a small store at the back of the cabin, "You have a life back in Camelot."

"So do you."

Merlin shrugged, "Yes, but I always knew it was temporary."

"Always? How is that even possible!" he cried, "I know you have done more for the building of Camelot than anyone!"

"No." Merlin corrected, as he pushed aside some things on the table so he could sit down and start preparing some vegetables, "I have done more for the survival of Camelot than most. It's form belongs to Arthur and Gwen."

Gwaine rolled his eyes and dropped into the opposite seat, grabbing some parsnips and starting to peel the skin with one of the nearby knives, "The only reason Gwen's queen is because you told Arthur it would be a good idea."

"Arthur loves Gwen." he replied.

"Yes, and did he realise that before you told him?"

Merlin paused and flicked his gaze up, his expression dark and intense, "Be careful about what you're suggesting."

"I don't mean magic." Gwaine said softly, "I mean that Arthur has always trusted your advice."

"Don't be ridiculous." he muttered, "If that was the case Morgana and Agravaine would have never happened."

"Many things would have happened if you'd been honest long ago."

"Including my death, and Arthur's." he chopped the vegetables as neatly as he could in such a temper, "It took a lot for him to trust me Gwaine. To view me as more than just another servant and I couldn't take the risk before." he glanced up and half smile, "I didn't have the courage."

"Then what changed?"

Merlin stopped chopping and rubbed his face, he looked tired, "I did, I suppose."

"And it has nothing to do with the armies Morgana has been massing from the north?" Gwaine questioned wryly.

Merlin's lips curled into a small smile, "Perhaps." his eyes flashed gold and the vegetables were suddenly chopped, transferring from the table to the pot with a light dropping sound, "I think you should return to Camelot."

"Merlin-"

"Not because I doubt your loyalty." Merlin cut across Gwaine loudly, "But because what I want to do here will be very dull for you."

"Why?" Gwaine asked suspiciously.

"I intend to do something I haven't had the time for since my powers manifested as a baby." a bright smile enveloped his face, "I'm going to indulge my magic."


	2. Chapter 2

Gwen moaned long and low, her body heating beneath his hands. Arthur's lips and fingers caressed her dark nipples, feeling each breathless ripple of her body beneath his. One hand knotted in his hair as she urged him further down.

Pressing his lips into her flat stomach, Arthur kept his eyes closed, guided by his other senses. Her skin was soft, rolling hips, rounded thighs that were wrapped around the lower half his body. Keeping him close. She was already so wet for him. He could taste the low tang on his tongue as he started to press against that small bud, slipping his fingers deep inside.

Gwen arched and cried out beneath him, "Arthur!"

He flicked open his eyes and looked up at her. The smooth, caramel tone of her skin flushing in the morning light. Wide brown eyes glassy with desire, overflowing with love for him. Arthur returned his attention to what he had started, aware of his cock which was gradually starting to harden between his legs.

"A-Arthur please! I need you."

Raising up onto his knees, Arthur rested his weight on her a little so they could kiss. Her tongue rolling against his, body shivering with need. Holding her legs apart, Arthur eased in and took a long, deep breath before he started to move. Her body was warm, tight, muscles clenching around his cock as he gently pushed in and out. Gwen's arms were thrown up above her head, fingers knotting in the pillow as her body undulated beneath him, each gasp for air deepening the flush across her ripe breasts.

Latching his lips on one nipple as his finger worked at the mound above her sex, he thrust as hard as he dared. Trying to cut out the image that flashed beneath his eyes. White instead of brown. Lean instead of full. Gasping for breath and calling his name Gwen climaxed, back arching from the bed. The flex of her muscles drew out his own orgasm.

Looking down the vision shifted completely and at the very last second Arthur pulled out as the wave started to crest. Grasping his cock and stripping so he came on her flat stomach instead. A white stream of semen that stood out against the gentle sheen of her skin.

Gwen's brow furrowed, but she said nothing when Arthur collapsed at her side. Burying his face in her neck so he could better disguise his anger and recrimination. This had to stop. Kissing Gwen's cheek, Arthur rolled onto his back, looking up into the dark red canopy above them. He didn't feel refreshed. He'd scarcely exerted himself. Concerned about what he could have said or done if his imagination took hold.

"Arthur." Gwen rolled onto her side, "I don't mind, you know."

He frowned, rolled onto his side so he could see her better, "What do you mean?"

"You aren't ready for heirs." she shrugged, "That's fine. I'm not sure I'm ready yet either."

Arthur half smiled, he slipped a lock of Gwen's hair out of her face so it rested behind her ear, "Sorry Gwen...I know that you bear the brunt of my indecision."

"People talk." Gwen stated, "However, for once they don't seem concerned about my ability to bear children."

"I can well imagine." Arthur muttered, rolling out of bed and searching his room for fresh clothes.

Merlin had been gone for almost a month now and ever since there had been strange reports coming in from the outlying villages. Crop yield was through the roof, bridges had collapsed because bits of river and forest seemed to be shifting. Landslides creating new routes through the mountains. Geoffery had been extremely flustered about it all. Each time another report arrived he had to remake the map again.

A pattern was starting to emerge.

There was a sudden rap at the door. Slipping into a shirt and breeches he pulled it back. Leon was waiting, he seemed tense, "Sire."

"Yes Leon?"

"We received another message, from the Druids."

He handed over the scroll. Arthur gripped it hard and immediately strode over to the desk. Leon followed, blushing when he caught sight of Gwen in bed. Her body still visible beneath the white sheets, working casually on documents of her own that she kept stored on the night stand. She'd remembered to put her night slip back on at least. Arthur was certain he was going to have a dead Knight on his hands after last time.

Tearing open the seal, Arthur took in the words. Scowling.

"What does it say?" Gwen questioned, getting out of bed to join him. Her lean legs in full view. Leon's colour deepened beneath his beard.

"They'd like to arrange a meeting on neutral ground."

"That's good, isn't it?" she read over his shoulder, "That's what you wanted."

"I wanted Merlin's whereabouts." Arthur muttered, pouring a cup of water that had grown warm in the heat.

"That was hardly likely Arthur." Gwen chided gently, picking up the abandoned note and scrutinising it closely, "Besides, if Merlin is Emrys as they say, it's safe to assume where their loyalty lies."

"I am their King." Arthur growled.

"You are their enemy." Gwen reminded sternly, "Merlin is their saviour. We should meet them at once." she looked at Leon, "Agree to all their terms."

"Guinevere." Arthur warned.

"If you want Merlin back, you'll have to endure." Gwen stated calmly, "Now if you'll excuse me, I need a cool bath." and she swept back to her rooms, taking the quicker servants route as she always had.

Arthur ran a hand through his untidy hair. Leon was still standing, waiting for orders. He nodded once, sighed, "As Gwen said, all of their terms."

Leon pursed his lips, "Are you sure Sire?"

"Not remotely." he admitted freely, and that seemed to surprise Leon, clearly unused to Arthur being so candid. Then again, these were hardly usual circumstances.

"Then why are we meeting with them?"

"Because Gwen is right. Merlin won't return until he knows he is safe."

Leon seemed troubled, his bearing shifted uncomfortably but he remained silent. Arthur raised his eyebrow in question and Leon said hesitantly, "Are you sure that is wise Sire? Merlin...lied to us all. For many years. Who knows what else he is capable of."

Arthur forgot sometimes, how well integrated Merlin had been into all aspects of his life. It wasn't just his rule that had been called into question, but the ability of his Knights as well. They were famed throughout Albion as the most elite military force ever known. Fierce, loyal and honourable. Merlin had been their companion. Their friend and guide when they lacked another. Percival, Gwaine and Elyan could credit themselves Knight's because of Merlin. They felt his loss just as keenly. As well as his betrayal.

"I share your fear." Arthur admitted, "You cannot imagine how angry I am with him." Leon nodded a little, as though he suspected that was quite true, "Nevertheless he walked away before I had opportunity to question him and I've come to suspect that Merlin has played a much larger role in the shaping of Camelot than I could have ever imagined."

"...And you don't doubt his intentions?" Leon asked, the stress of questioning his King starting to show in the tense line of his mouth and desperately straight bearing.

"I need to look into his eyes once more." Arthur said softly, "I won't be certain of anything until I do."

Leon nodded, bowed his head, "Of course Sire. I will see to your orders immediately."

Arthur took another sip of water and pulled a face. He needed a new manservant. Pretending as though he couldn't cope without one was ridiculous. Merlin was gone and even if he were to return, which Arthur couldn't envision yet, then his place would no longer be in the shadow of the King. It couldn't be.

\--

Three times Gwaine had attempted to visit Merlin, and three times he'd been unable to cross the wards keeping the cottage hidden from sight. He headed there again, not holding out much hope that things had changed and was quite relieved to find the way open.

Though things weren't as he left them.

The cottage had been consumed by a series of vines and shrubs. A great, powerful oak had split the roof apart, its leaves shivering in the sunset. The ground beneath his feet was springy and soft. Wildflowers blooming in every direction, their scent heady and intoxicating. Taking a few gentle steps into the only opening he could find through the dense growth, he gripped a nearby branch and froze.

Merlin sat in a hollow of his own making. The space around him was verdant, a stream of light from the sky above breaking through and illuminating him in soft golden light. He sat cross legged, naked, eyes closed as the world continued to ease and shift around him. Gwaine tried to say something and found his mouth to be quite dry. Though the scratchy sound from his throat seemed to do it.

A vine shot from the ground and caught his ankles, two more gripping his wrists. He tried moving and couldn't.

"Merlin!" he cried, "It's me! Gwaine."

The figure in front of him shifted. Merlin's eyes flickered open, revealing eyes that still glowed that deep, fearsome gold. In one sinuous movement he stood from the ground, long limbs unwinding gracefully. Gods he was a vision. Tall, long, the very air around him shivered with power as he regained something nearing consciousness.

Gwaine thrilled as he viewed Merlin's cock, already nearing full hardness. Long and heavy, the tip shimmering with precome. The vines at his wrist tightened as the gold in Merlin's eyes faded, leaving deep blue recognition behind.

"You got in this time." Merlin commented, his expression heated as he took in Gwaine's powerlessness.

"I wasn't supposed to?" he felt a little breathless, all his blood was rushing south at an alarming rate.

"Only if you brought news..." one hand was moving purposefully down his front, "What is it?"

"Tomorrow we ride out to meet the Druids." he gasped when Merlin lay a hand on his cock, the heel of his palm pressing down hard, "The King wants to treat with them."

"Why?" his hand drifted off again, deft finger's working at the buckles on his armour.

"To get information on Emrys, and take their advice on removing the ban of magic in Camelot."

Merlin's finger's stilled and the vines shifted, slipping away from his arms and legs, leaving a caress in their wake, "That happened much sooner than I expected."

Gwaine peered at him, "How long have you been-here." he gestured at the space around them and Merlin finally seemed to take it in. He took a couple of steps back from Gwaine and looked up at the boughs of the oak above them.

"Oh."

"Oh?"

Merlin looked a little sheepish, running his fingers through his messy hair, "I wasn't aware of that happening."

"You grew a tree."

"Yes."

"And you didn't notice."

"No."

Gwaine grinned, then laughed, bending over as he sought to breathe. The air around him seemed thin, too much magic tingling against his skin as Merlin looked at him. Amused. Still aroused. In one sudden movement he had tackled Gwaine to the ground, a skill he must have learned from Arthur at some point. Next thing Gwaine realised he was naked and Merlin's lips were wrapped around his cock while one finger slipped straight into his hole, playfully toying around while Gwaine shuddered with a combination of arousal and laughter.

"This is a very bad idea." he advised, bearing down harder on the finger moving in his arse.

"Probably." he agreed, grinning cheekily, before running his tongue up the underside of his cock, adding another finger and rubbing against that place inside which always drove him wild.

"Fuck!" another hand was working at his nipples, pulling them to full hardness as he rocked in and out of Merlin's hot mouth, "You're a fiend!"

"I'll add it to my list of crimes." his voice was low, rough from swallowing around Gwaine's cock, a third finger joining the second, blue eyes hot as he watched Gwaine fall apart beneath him, "You've always been a slut for me."

Gwaine threw his head back and arched suddenly off the ground as he felt an unexpected tendril of magic tug at the tip of his cock, "Y-yeah." he panted, "Took me by surprise-fuck-as well!"

Very early on Gwaine was forced to learn that Merlin was not the naive waif everyone assumed. This was, in fact, a very convenient cover that disguised vast swathes of perversion that left a man of even Gwaine's experience quaking. First rule, Merlin didn't take it. Ever. Unless it was on his terms. Second rule, don't ask questions. Questions mean punishment. Third rule, well, he could hardly remember anymore because with little warning Merlin flipped him onto his front and grasped his waist, manhandling him into position.

"I'm going to break you." Merlin breathed into his ear, as he pressed his cock against the seam of Gwaine's arse.

"Please." he dropped to his elbows and raised his arse up higher, so aching that he couldn't think straight, "Please!"

"My pleasure."

All at once Gwaine felt his arms pulled taut by invisible ropes as Merlin thrust in. Gods, had he always been that big? The sensation of being stretched and burned beyond recognition forced a shuddering cry from his lips. He'd barely had opportunity to regain his senses before Merlin started to move, strong, purposeful strides that broke Gwaine down into a gibbering mess. Merlin's magic was everywhere, rubbing his nipples, stroking his sides, stripping his cock. Driving him into a state of such sensitivity all Gwaine could do was moan, powerless against Emrys who was grunting with exertion above him.

"Oh-Merlin!"

That was it. He came. It was sudden and too much. Semen streaking the floor as Merlin stilled above him. Hot come spurting deep inside Gwaine and he collapsed to the floor, gasping for breath. Merlin fell on his side. They caught one another's eye and immediately burst out laughing. Merlin covered his eyes with one hand while Gwaine rolled onto his back, alarmed at the come dripping between his thighs.

"Gods Merlin. When was the last time you fucked someone?" he reached between his legs and gathered some of the semen, "This is denser than a virgins."

Merlin knocked him, "I've been busy."

"Redrawing the map." Gwaine raised an eyebrow.

"That's been picked up on already?" he looked a little sheepish.

"You've upset a lot of merchants. They've lost all their favourite trade routes."

"They'll thank me later, when Morgana finds her way blocked." he seemed satisfied with himself, as he should. Reshaping the world was a fearsome ability.

"You're a little scary." Gwaine commented, keeping his tone light, he didn't want to draw out Merlin's defensive coldness.

"Yes." he half smiled and agreed, looking thoughtful as he ran a warm hand down Gwaine's sweaty chest, "I only wanted to try and it was just so...easy. It's all about intent. The earth doesn't want to belong to Morgana or the Old Religion, so coaxing it a little to change a few things here and there wasn't very difficult."

Gwaine scratched his eyebrow, "Arthur should be very grateful that you're on his side."

"To be his enemy would corrupt the order of things." Merlin said softly, deep blue eyes darkening with something Gwaine didn't recognise, "Arthur is the Once and Future King. I am his servant. If I sought to be something separate from him, to take Camelot's throne and shape Albion on my own...let's just say it wouldn't be good."

Gwaine rolled onto his side, long dark hair gently moved aside by Merlin's hand, "That seems like a very convenient failsafe to me."

"All power needs to be checked." Merlin shrugged, "Without it there would be tyranny."

"Perhaps." Gwaine shifted closer, so he could rest his finger's against the firm muscle of Merlin's chest, "It also requires trust. Those of us that aren't king's and sorcerer's have simpler needs. Food on the table, free passage, a safe place to make roots and raise families."

Merlin's lips tugged into a playful smile, "Thinking of settling down?"

"Me?" Gwaine grinned, "Never. I'll never be done sowing my wild oats."

Merlin's hand travelled down, until he was cupping Gwaine's soft cock in his hand, "Good." he flashed an impish smile, "Because I'm not quite finished with those oats."

Gwaine gulped, then smiled winningly, "Then it's your lucky day."

\--

"You're late Gwaine!" Arthur's sharp voice carried across the courtyard and Gwaine hurried across it, still tying his cloak onto his shoulder.

"Sorry Sire." he bounded up onto his horse and tried not to make his flinch too obvious, "It won't happen again."

Arthur searched him, deciding that his apology was genuine before nodding once, "See that it doesn't." and with that he kicked off, getting the royal party moving.

Percival threw him a wide grin as he rode ahead, followed by the other Knights. Gwaine waited a beat before joining them, trying not to jostle too much. Their party was larger than usual, Arthur's Knight's accompanied by a selection of Guinevere's staff. It was rare for the Queen to join them on excursions like this but Gwaine could see the wisdom in it.

On a diplomatic level, it demonstrated Camelot's solidarity. A gesture that removing the magic ban was something supported by the entire nation and they would take the Druid claims seriously. On a personal level, Gwen would prevent Arthur from flying off the handle. Hot tempered at the best of times, without Merlin to divert Arthur's attention and take the brunt of his frustration they'd all fallen victim to Princess' sharp tongue for no other reason than being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Fighting with him on the practice field had turned into a special kind of torture. Everyone knew that Arthur was the best warrior in Albion. Gwaine just wished he'd get tired of demonstrating it.

Their meeting place with the Druid's was a day's ride away, and thankfully their pace was a sedate one to accommodate for the extra servants. Gwaine had woken up this morning feeling completely and utterly used. His wrists were sore from being bound. Hips bruised, joints aching from being pushed into positions he was clearly getting too old for. His torso was covered in bites, a couple of lashings from when he'd gotten cocky and asked Merlin about Arthur. It had always been the best way to rile him up. It was comforting that some things didn't change.

"Where were you last night?" Elyan asked, trotting gently beside him.

Gwaine grinned, flicking hair out of his eyes and tensing when it pulled on one of last night's injuries, "That is for me to know, and for you to never find out."

Mordred was watching him closely. Pale blue eyes caught in a frown as though he'd seen something but thought it couldn't possibly be true. Gwaine raised an eyebrow at the scrutiny and he blushed, quickly looking away. Filing that away as something to pursue later, Gwaine stroked his horses neck and tried to shift into a slightly more comfortable position, idly running his finger's against his pack.

This morning as he panicked about getting back to Camelot in time, Merlin had calmly conjured a piece of parchment, muttered something, and handed it to Gwaine with the firm instruction that it somehow find its way to Arthur before the meeting with the Druid's took place. When Gwaine pointed out that was impossible because a) Arthur would know immediately where it had come from and b) getting back to Camelot before everyone left wasn't going to happen, Merlin merely raised an unimpressed eyebrow, waved his hand, and next thing Gwaine knew he was in his rooms without being given any warning whatsoever.

Truth be told he was a bit disorientated by the whole thing. Gwaine had always enjoyed a little bit of domination but last night Merlin had taken it to new levels. It was as though something had come loose. Being free to use his magic at long last had clearly driven out the very last of Merlin's inhibitions, and it wasn't as though he'd ever been a shrinking violet to start with. Gwaine didn't envy the poor sod that got landed with him for good.

One night like that every now and then was good for the soul, clears out the cobwebs, but he couldn't do that forever. Merlin for all his playfulness took his games seriously. Gwaine repressed a shudder of pleasure at the sensation of being strung up against the oak while Merlin ate him out, a persistent pressure at the base of his cock stopping him from coming. It went on and on for so long Gwaine was sure that he'd forgotten his own name, broken down to nothing more than a sweaty writhing mess, utterly reliant on Merlin for release. Or Emrys. At times like that he seemed to slip into a slightly different persona as well.

It was a crisp, clear day and their progress through the countryside was steady. He was sweating a little beneath the hot sun but it was nice. Refreshing. They stopped a couple of times to collect water, and stretch their legs, all the while Gwaine trying to work out how he could slip Merlin's parchment in with Arthur's things without his notice. In the end he settled on sneaking into Arthur's tent later and adding it to all the other royal paperwork.

Pleased with the plan, he waited the day out. Laughing and jeering with the other's, flirting with Gwen's maidservant-a charming little red head called Marion-and altogether making enough of a nuisance of himself that even Arthur managed to crack a smile.

Later on he took advantage of the general air of chaos as the camp was set up to slip into Arthur's tent-the first to be mounted, of course-striding through, dropping the parchment on a side table, and circling back round to help tie up the horses. Mordred still watching him with that funny look on his face.

It's only when they settled down to eat some stew that George-Merlin's replacement-has cooked that the inevitable explosion takes place. Arthur stormed out the tent, brandishing Merlin's parchment as though it were a weapon, "Where did this come from!?"

Gwaine raises his eyebrows, while Leon asks in a reasonable tone, "What do you mean Sire?"

Arthur shakes the parchment, "This! Where did it come from!"

The camp exchanged uneasy glances. Gwen strode towards Arthur and reached out to take the parchment but he snapped his hand back, eyes flashing. He looked around, taking in the group with an assessing glare when his attention settled on Gwaine, "Where were you last night?"

Gwaine pointed at himself, mouth dropping open, "Me?" he flashed a grin, "Where I usually am, in the arms of a beautiful woman."

Arthur looked extremely unhappy with this answer, "No."

"No?"

"You're moving differently than usual." Arthur said in a low, pointed voice.

The implication was perfectly clear.

Gwaine's mouth dried out and he considered his options. The arrangement he shared with Merlin wasn't exactly a secret. Most of the castle knew that the King's manservant was partial to a Knight. Though they'd never admitted it, he was certain that Merlin had had flings with both Percival and Leon at some point in the past. Not to mention the tension with Lancelot. Gwaine had been treated to an extremely impromptu and exciting threesome when Merlin suddenly decided that Lancelot could do with getting his mind off Gwen for a bit. It had certainly worked. Lancelot, trapped between Merlin and Gwaine, moaning, face screwed up with pleasure, dark skin flushed pink as he was fucked senseless was truly a sight to behold.

It was also another poorly kept secret that Arthur hated it. On one mortifying occasion they'd been caught in the act. They were returning to Camelot after battle, both running high with adrenaline. Breaking away from the camp, Gwaine was in the middle of an absolutely brutal seeing to with his hands gripping a tree bark for dear life when Arthur stepped into view. His expression moved from stunned to furious in a blink of an eye. In his defence, Gwaine did try to escape but Merlin just shoved him harder, reaching around to grip his cock and Gwaine completely gave in. Just about sensible enough to figure out that there was something happening with Merlin and Arthur.

Their were gazes locked, unmoving as Merlin continued pounding. Gwaine recalls coming with a thoroughly embarrassing whimper, powerless as Merlin carried on, climaxing an interminable moment later. Arthur only moved on when Merlin pulled out, one arm absently circling Gwaine's waist to prevent him from falling onto the floor like the boneless mess he felt like.

Arthur hadn't looked at him for weeks after. He was also quite certain that he'd been on the verge of dismissal, and that Merlin may have intervened on his behalf.

All in all it wasn't looking good. He was Merlin's last known fucktoy-he wouldn't dare use the word lover-and everyone knew that his loyalty was always Merlin's first, Arthur's second.

"What does it show?" Mordred asked.

Arthur glanced at him, "Intelligence on our enemies, complete with a provisional timeline of when we can expect Morgana to launch her campaign."

There wass a stunned silence. Gwaine flicked his eyebrows up, impressed.

"You suspect Merlin?" Gwen questioned, a crease between her eyes.

"Of course it's Merlin!" he cried, throwing his hands up in his air, "Can you think of anyone else audacious enough to do this!?"

It was a fair point. No one else would have the nerve to deliver information directly to the person hunting them. Without waiting for a reply, Arthur turned on his heel and headed back to his tent, muttering about 'treacherous warlock's' and 'useless menservants'. Gwen followed immediately after. Gwaine carried on eating his stew, ignoring all the curious glances in his direction and soon enough conversation picked up again. Merlin's name very carefully omitted from proceedings.

As Gwaine was fishing out his bedroll for later, he felt a hand grip his wrist, followed by an abrupt yelp. The hand jerked back as quickly as it appeared. Turning to his side, Gwaine appraised Mordred who was holding his hand and scowling.

"What did you do?" he demanded.

Gwaine raised an eyebrow, pointed at Mordred's hand, "What was that?"

Mordred dropped his hand to his side, though his finger's twitched, "Nothing."

"Doesn't look like nothing." his dark eyes peered at Mordred closely, his expression becoming shut off, eyes glinting coldly.

All at once Gwaine understood. Eyes filling with bright amusement he grinned and clapped Mordred on the shoulder, "Well now isn't that something."

Panicking, Mordred grasped Gwaine's forearm and dragged him back into the forest, seeking to get as far away from potential listeners as possible, though eventually he had to let go. The thin material wasn't enough to hold back the force of Merlin's magic. When he couldn't take it anymore he spun round and pointed in Gwaine's face, "You've been with Emrys."

"Emrys?" Gwaine asked, leaning back against the nearest tree, looking canny and unconcerned, "That what you call him?"

Mordred's eyes narrowed, magic bristling beneath his skin, "What are you suggesting?"

"Nothing, if that is what you want." Gwaine replied coolly, making it clear that the course of this conversation belonged entirely to Mordred. He wouldn't give in so easily.

Huffing a breath, Mordred gripped the hilt of his sword and pointed, "You are drenched in Emrys' magic."

"Is that why you've been staring at me all day." Gwaine smirked, "I was a little worried that you'd fallen in love with me."

Mordred's mouth hung open in disbelief, "What? How could you-" he spluttered, stopping when Gwaine's smile stretched out into a playful grin. He groaned. "Gods you and Merlin. You're as unbelievable and outrageous as one another."

"I like to think so." his eyes glinted, stance shifting, and Mordred remembered that Gwaine was a fearsome warrior in his own right. The only person aside from Arthur that he couldn't defeat on the training field, "Want to tell me why you couldn't touch me?"

Mordred shifted uncertainly, "Merlin's magic is...wary of me."

"Why?" Gwaine questioned, now completely serious.

He shrugged, "There are prophecies. Merlin is suspicious of me on account of them."

"I see." Gwaine searched him and Mordred forced himself to keep his stance and not look as worried as he felt, "You can't tell Arthur that I was with Merlin."

Mordred scowled, "That depends on what he's been doing. Camelot has felt...strange since he left."

"In what way?" Gwaine asked, genuinely interested to know what Merlin felt like to another sorcerer.

Mordred sighed, shrugged, "It's difficult to explain. One of the first stories I was told of as a child was about Emyrs and Arthur. The Once and Future King, and his sorcerer. Two sides of the same coin." he half smiled, the Druids loved their grandeur, "Between them they would unite Albion and return magic to the land."

Gwaine nodded, "Merlin told me as much last night."

"Yes and I've been in close proximity with him for quite some time and I've never felt as I have the last month." he sighed, aware that Gwaine was waiting for more of an explanation, "Look, even among the Druid's people are wary of me. I always struggled to control my magic. Sometimes it would burst out beneath my skin and leave nothing but destruction behind. It's the reason why I had to leave." Gwaine looks vaguely impressed by this little piece of information, which Mordred noted before rushing on to make his point, "Magic users all have their own signature, a tone, or a feeling, that lingers in the senses. Morgana, for instance, has always called to me. Her anger and hatred were kin to the disillusion I felt when my family were murdered by Uther. We were two lost children alone in a world that frightened us."

"Does it call to you now?" Gwaine asked quietly.

Mordred shook his head quickly in denial, "No! Not at all! Morgana has slipped into darkness and I have no desire to follow her. I'm here because I believe in Arthur and I want to prove to Emrys that he can trust me, that some words written down long before either of us were even born don't dictate my future or my choices."

His cheeks were flushed and it occurred to Gwaine just how young Mordred was. None of them were old, as such, but Mordred was still a teenager trying to find his way in the world. The crush he had on Merlin was also incredibly endearing.

"Merlin is extremely stubborn." Gwaine said softly, "Particularly when it comes to Arthur."

"Arthur has no idea how lucky he is." Mordred said, clearly a little irritated, "Emrys' magic has been changing gradually over the years. When I was a child it was warm, playful and uncertain. Now it's fierce and uncompromising. Getting near him burns." he strode closer to Gwaine, unable to stop talking now that he had started, "Yet this last month it feels as though he has been everywhere. Even as I stand here now talking to you I can feel him, moving through the air, beneath the ground at our feet. What he's done for Arthur should not be possible. Nature is something we draw strength and security from...but Emrys does not."

"He's something else." Gwaine murmured.

"Yes!" Mordred flashed a grin, "It's as though he's become part of nature. A conscious, elemental force. It's...what he's doing for Arthur is impossible, amazing and-"

"Terrifying." Gwaine finished.

Mordred stopped and laughed. His expression was bright and elated. It occurred to Gwaine that he'd rarely seen Mordred like this. He was usually quiet and withdrawn, brooding if anything. Being this way suited him. Destiny was a complete bastard.

"Yes." he was still grinning, "Completely and utterly terrifying."

Gwaine rubbed a hand against his beard, stood up a little straighter, "I won't tell anyone anything Mordred. Your secret is safe with me."

He nodded, looked relieved, smiling a little still, "As is yours."

"Good, now we better get back before Princess notices." Mordred pulled a face and Gwaine grinned, "Exactly."


	3. Chapter 3

Arthur didn't sleep that night. Guinevere was unhappy with him. His men were lying to him. Merlin was mocking him.

Or helping him. It very much depended on what memory he was caught up in when he glanced back at the parchment.

By the time dawn came round he was resigned to the fact that Merlin's loyalty was unshakeable and he'd been an idiot for even questioning it. All that left him with was impatience to see this negotiation through and a bone deep yearning he'd never shaken off. Marriage and duty helped keep it at bay but there were occasions when he just couldn't deny it any longer and all at once it would hit him.

Who he loved and who he could never have.

This _thing_ he and Merlin shared. It was immutable, necessary and impossible. Had been from the moment they acknowledged it. Nevertheless it ached. A soul deep throb of absence where his other half ought to be.

Guinevere stirred at his side and Arthur rubbed his face wearily. There was no time for this. Merlin's parchment had made it clear how quickly their enemies were massing. Morgana had allies with Essetir and was in talks with Mercia. Many of Camelot's old alliances were forged on Uther's determination to banish magic and they would be undermined by Arthur's repeal on the same laws. He needed allies, magical and non magical if he was to survive this next assault on his home. By his sister.

Getting up from the pallet, he decided to change on his own. A bath would be nice. Ideally he'd greet the Druids looking his best. Not exhausted from lack of sleep and emotionally drained. Gwen rose just as he was tying his cloak up onto his shoulder, not quite willing to meet his eyes. Arthur let it be. They hadn't argued last night as such, but Gwen had been unhappy at his unwillingness to share Merlin's information with her. Simply because for one insane, possessive moment he wanted to keep it to himself. Until common sense kicked in and he realised that he needed Gwen's council on what their next stage ought to be. She had spoken curtly, not quite meeting his eyes and they had gone to bed sleeping back to back.

Arthur suspected she was aware of what he and Merlin were to one another. Then again he hadn't gone to great pains to keep the regard he felt for his manservant secret. It wasn't as though people knowing would change anything. Arthur kept to his duty, Merlin to his. A duty which he had clearly imaginatively interpreted over the years.

As soon as everyone had ate they mounted their horses and continued to their destination. Arthur had been instructed to head towards a specific part of the southern forest, near the border of Essetir. It made him uneasy being so close to a hostile nation-Pendragon colours weren't exactly discreet-but it was a necessary risk. Merlin no doubt would have urged stealth, but Merlin wasn't here and Arthur needed to get this over with as soon as possible.

Keeping close together, they trailed along a path that would have been impossible to spot without looking for it. Arthur led, Guinevere at his back, as the forest gradually became quiet around them. The wind stilled and animals ceased to move. The hair on the back of Arthur's neck stood on end.

_Welcome, Arthur Pendragon._

Arthur whipped around, looking for the source of the voice but he couldn't see anyone. Gwen seemed concerned.

"Arthur?"

_Your Queen and three of your best Knights only. The rest must stay behind._

Arthur grit his teeth and shot back, _You do not give me orders._

There was a note of tension in the link, _It is for our safety, Majesty._

Huffing, Arthur swung off his horse, _Fine._

"Mordred, Gwaine and Leon with me." he held out a hand to Guinevere, "They will only talk to the two of us alone, with three Knights."

Gwen's lips tightened, "Is that wise?"

"We're too close to Essetir to argue about it." Arthur answered, as Gwen took his hand, swinging gracefully off her horse. When he was flanked by his men, Arthur strode further down the path and shivered when something dropped around them. He gripped the hilt of his sword and blinked at the clearing that hadn't been there seconds before.

Arthur spun round, expecting to see the rest of his Knight's waiting but there was nothing. Irritated, he spun round to the Druid group watching them from the opposite side of the clearing, "Tricks."

One at the centre of the group spoke, shaking his head heavily, "This keeps us hidden from King Cenred's patrols. I assumed that would be of benefit to you as well."

Arthur said nothing, while Gwen inclined her head graciously, "You are correct to keep hidden. My husband was merely surprised."

"Yes." Arthur's voice was terse, he kept wanting to look over his shoulder and exchange a glance with Merlin, "I apologise for my abruptness."

"No offense was made, Majesty." the man attempted a polite smile, though he was clearly nervous, "Thank you for paying us this visit. We were...surprised to receive such a missive from you."

"Circumstances have changed." Arthur admitted, surveying the group keenly. They were five as well. At least that was fair. The man at the centre must be Arian, the one Arthur had been corresponding with. Broad and bearded, with a forest green cloak, and bright dark eyes. Arthur noted a selection of runes imprinted on the hand he was using to hold a heavy staff, a crystal glinting at the tip.

He was flanked on either side by two women and two men varying in age. The youngest was a boy younger even than Mordred, with soft, blushing skin and wavy dark hair. The raven shade hit him with an unfortunate pang of irritation and sadness. It was infuriating that Merlin wasn't here. That he'd abandon him now. Trying to keep his temper under control, Arthur made his introductions. It didn't pass his notice how their eyes lingered a little longer than needed on both Gwaine and Mordred. Gwaine for his part grinned, dark eyes glinting while Mordred's expression became more drawn than usual.

More secrets, more lies.

Arian introduced them all without titles. Druids had no need for them. The boy's name was Daegal, the woman next to him was Tamera. There was a girl, called Kay, and another man of Arian's age named Omera. All in all they were a handsome group. Clothed in soft colours, their expressions clear and neutral. None of them carrying a single weapon, though Arthur suspected they didn't need one.

They all carried themselves differently, he noticed. Arthur and his Knight's were face on, feet firmly planted, shoulders wide. Gwen on his right hand was the same. The Druid's seemed to stand a little on an angle, as though prepared to flee at a moment's notice on light feet. It was also an offensive stance, easier to throw out a spell with one hand and create a smaller target at the same time. Merlin often stood the same and Arthur had never sought to question why, assuming it was related to his station as a servant, eager to slip into the shadows. For magic users then it was a dual purpose. This was helpful to know.

"So, my Lord." Arian politely inclined his head, "How can we be of service to you?"

"Emrys." he hissed the name, the title, "What do your people know of him?"

There was a small flutter among the group, no doubt a silent exchange on what they should or shouldn't share. In the end it was Tamera that answered, "Emrys is magic."

"I know." he tried to keep his voice calm but his anger was flaring again, "That's why I'm here."

Gwen threw him an impatient look but the Druid's didn't seem to mind. Arian shook his head, "No. Emrys is the Father of Magic."

"Merlin is twenty nine years old and to my knowledge has never fathered anything." Arthur stated, trying to avoid gripping the hilt of his sword, "How does that even make sense?"

"Magic is constant." Omera explained in a soft voice, "As part as the earth as air or water, and just as necessary. The difference is that it has a kind of...consciousness. During the Purge, when your Father started to kill magic users and magical creatures, the balance grew distorted. In order to compensate for this loss a child was born. Last of his father's line, ordinary, unique and appointed by destiny as the living incarnation of magic to return Albion to its natural state."

Arthur's mouth went dry and he tried to sort out his jumbled thoughts, "Merlin is Magic."

"Yes." Omera smiled a little, a kindly light in his eyes, "Emrys is eternal."

Something twists sharp in Arthur's stomach, "Eternal? Merlin is immortal?"

"Possibly." Arian shrugged lightly, "Emrys is as much a mystery to us in many ways as he is to you."

"Well he can't live forever." Arthur growled, "I forbid it."

There was a sudden ripple in the trees at that and the Druid's shivered collectively. Mordred tensed at his shoulder, blue eyes searching the clearing for something none of them could see. Arthur stood firm and confident. He would know Merlin anywhere. Body or no body.

"So I suppose you know a little of what's been happening with my kingdom?" he asked, "That it has been strategically reshaped?"

"It is Emyrs' gift to you." Tamera replied, "He has clearly mastered the art of projection. The ability to move in spirit alone. It is...quite impressive."

"Over achiever."Arthur muttered and tried not to smile when he felt a warm brush against his side, a playful huff of laughter just beyond hearing, "Is there anything else I need to be aware of?"

Arian's eyes strayed towards Mordred and his lips grew tight, "Darkness is coming, Majesty. The Lady Morgana is intent upon taking the throne of Camelot and she will do whatever it takes to assure your ruin."

"Of that I am quite aware." Arthur said curtly, "I would know where your loyalties lie."

"With Emrys." Deagal spoke at once, cheeks flushed under the intense scrutiny of the King of Camelot.

"Is this the same for you all?" Arthur questioned.

Arian, Tamera and Omera nodded at once. Kay hesitated, then her expression shifted into something much darker and all at once Arthur was set upon by magic. Thrown aside by an invisible force as Kay shouted at the top of her voice, "Pendragon's lie!"

Mordred's head was ringing with the force of Kay's spell. It was something old, disabling all magic nearby apart from hers. The Druid's were doubled over in pain. Gwaine immediately leapt to protect Gwen and Leon was being summarily flung aside as Kay strode forward, determined to reach the King who was pinned to the floor by her spell. Shaking his head, Mordred called on his magic, but it was flickering and weak. His mind was working too slowly as he tried to protect Arthur without getting killed or revealing himself in the process.

 _Not as easy as it looks is it?_ a voice murmured playfully in his mind, _Try this._

Gasping as knowledge and power most certainly not his own burst bright through his mind, Mordred's head cleared and he stood up straight. His magic answered his call this time, aided by Emyrs. Unsure what the spell would do, he muttered the words, a curse he'd never encountered as a boy among the Druids. It felt strange on his tongue, resisting his power, as though the force he was channelling didn't take well to being summoned by word and will alone. With good reason. Mordred was as stunned as everyone else when one bolt of lightning shot through the clearing, destroying Kay where she stood. Bloody blackened remains collapsing to the earth.

Heart throbbing in disbelief, Modred sought Emrys, certain he was nearby, _Some warning next time._

 _Where would be the fun in that?_ he could almost see the wicked, mischievous smile, _Well done Mordred. For a second there I was concerned the words would burn you up as well._

_There was a chance of that!?_

_Not at all. Perhaps. It was only slight and I could have prevented any permanent damage._

_You're awful._ Mordred declared, watching as the Druid's regrouped and Arthur checked that Guinevere was okay, hand skimming her arms and face gently, _I don't know what Arthur sees in you._

There was a brush of laughter, impish and warm, _Neither does he. It's a good job one of us knows what's going on._

Mordred felt a surge of fondness all of a sudden, _You should come home._

 _I can't yet,_  the touch on his mind suddenly weighed with gravity and weariness, _I can't be at his side Mordred. I need you to fulfil my old role for awhile._

 _You don't trust me,_ Mordred reminded him, feeling irate and bitter, _The Druids don't trust me._

 _I'm giving you an opportunity,_ the voice was stern and Mordred felt momentarily surrounded once more, his magic brushing desperately, irrepressibly against Emrys, _I would like you to prove me wrong Mordred._

 _I want to prove you wrong,_ he voiced it in a silent rush, unable to hold back his desperation to prove himself, _I don't want to be Arthur's Bane._

_Good. You know what will happen if you lie to me and any harm comes to Arthur._

Mordred nodded, well aware of what happened to those that crossed Emyrs, unable to think clearly as his magic slipped away, eager to twine with the power surrounding him. Mordred had never felt anything quite like this before. His magic overwhelmed by Emrys, his wild, intimate energy that seemed to be of the body as much as the spirit. To his astonishment he could feel himself growing breathless, flushed with a desire he didn't know and couldn't name.

 _Emrys,_ it was a plea, for it to end or continue he couldn't say for certain.

 _Mordred,_ a murmur against his ear, as the magic gradually withdrew, _Do your duty._

The sensation faded and he was left in the clearing. Things seemed to have calmed down. Gwaine was watching him, one eyebrow raised and Mordred searched himself until he found the cause. He was half hard. Blushing and shifting, Mordred willed it away and forced himself to focus on the King, whose temper, always so close to the surface these days was starting to rise as he glared at the astonished Druids.

"Someone please explain that to me!" he pointed at Kay's charred remains.

Arian's mouth opened and closed a couple of time, before Tamera stepped in, "Kay vowed to us that she had left her hatred behind." Arthur said nothing but his expression darkened, so she rushed on, "You have to understand Sire that all of us lost so much during the Purge. There is not a single one of us that didn't lose a member of our family or a close friend." her voice started to tremble, tears lining her lovely pale blue eyes, "Kay was an orphan when she came to us. She had survived an ambush that destroyed her village..." her voice trailed off, and Daegal took up the story.

"A man dressed in Pendragon colours lied to them." his expression was steely and Mordred could feel his magic reacting in turn, bursting with colour and light, "He claimed to be a traitor to Uther-he had a touch of magic himself-and it was used to gain their trust. While they slept the rest of his company arrived and slaughtered them in their beds."

"Pendragon's lie." Arthur repeated, gazing at each Druid in turn, his expression fierce and intent, "I do not. I came here looking for common ground between us. Emrys is a starting point, but not enough to build real change upon." he glanced sidelong at Gwen who was watching carefully, inclining her head in agreement with whatever Arthur was thinking, "In three weeks from now, I will lift the ban on magic for a week. I want every magic user in Camelot to come to the citadel and we will hold discussions on how it is best to proceed for everyone within the kingdom."

All of the Druids looked suitably stunned. Leon flushed with surprise. Gwaine's lips stretched into a wide, wicked grin. Mordred was more than a little unnerved, his promise to Merlin was still fresh.

"Why, Sire?" Omera asked, his voice hushed.

"Why would I take the risk?" he questioned, eyebrow raised, "Because I must. My knowledge and understanding of magic is limited to the stories I was told in my youth and hardened by the wide number of sorcerer's that have attempted to take my life over the years, including my sister."

"Emrys-" Arian began.

"Emrys is walking his own path at present." Arthur cut off, "He is a stubborn, mission orientated trickster that will show himself when he's ready. In the meantime Camelot needs magic. Otherwise my sister will destroy us all and frankly I'm tired of always being at a disadvantage."

There was a fission through the group and Arian stepped forward, "We will pass on the message."

Arthur nodded once, "Good." he scanned the group, "I would like all of you to arrive in two weeks time and prepare me for what is to come. I expect a resounding number of angry, magical people seeking to stir up revolution and it would benefit me greatly to have a finer grasp of their objections beyond the obvious."

Tamera's lips curved into a small, hard smile, "Beyond allowing them to live freely, you mean?"

"None of us live freely." Arthur retorted, eyes flashing, "It would be naive to state otherwise."

There was a tense silence, before Arian bowed his head, "It would be an honour to advise your Majesty."

The other Druid's followed suit. Satisfied, Arthur threw one last glance at Kay's burnt out body and strode away, "I look forward to your visit."

Everyone fell in step behind him. Mordred lingered last, watching them all carefully. They were just as wary of him.

 _You have gained Emrys' favour_. Tamera stated, her pale eyes narrowed.

 _For now._ Mordred's happiness was tentative, he was aware of what would happen should he fail.

 _Kay didn't deserve this brutality._ Daegal shot at him, anger making his magic simmer beautifully, _To be burned alive!_

 _Emrys is not like us._ Mordred muttered at them all, turning around and following behind Gwaine, _Remember that next time one of those you trust turns on Arthur._

Mordred braced when the glamour around the clearing dropped and they rejoined the rest of the waiting Knights and servants. Arthur was already mounted on his horse, and they all followed suit. Declaring this negotiation over, Arthur commanded they return to Camelot. The business of state didn't fall to a stop just because he had taken on the foolish and gargantuan task of returning magic to his kingdom. There was always some grain that needed counting, after all.


	4. Chapter 4

Within two days of returning to Camelot, Arthur called a meeting with his core Knights and military advisors in the council room. War was coming and they needed to prepare. At some point Arthur had the map Merlin created enlarged and they all stood around it, taking in the clever little adjustments that would hinder an invasion. Especially one from the North.

"They won't have much room for manoeuvre." Leon stated, one finger curled thoughtfully across his lips, "The hills will cost them time, as will the extension of some of the forests."

"And the river." Elyan pointed out.

"They'll be funnelled here." Arthur agreed, pointing to a plain north of the city, "Assuming they take the easiest route."

"Don't we have the high ground there?" Gwaine questioned, dark eyes flicking keenly over the details on the map as he toyed with a dagger between his gloved hands.

"We do." Arthur agreed, pleased that someone remembered.

"So-what?" Elyan asked, "We just wait for them to arrive?"

"It'll be a slaughter." Gwaine's voice was low, his gaze locked with Arthur's, "No army can work around the number of obstructions Merlin's placed."

"Not quite. Essetir is a larger kingdom and Cenred is less fussy about who he welcomes into his army. They will have greater numbers and magic users among the ranks. We still have a disadvantage."

"Then who do we need to charm into joining us?" Gwaine asked, flashing a grin that didn't quite meet his eyes, "Queen Annis is a wonderful woman but her army is as outdated at Leon's wardrobe."

Leon threw an apple at him and Gwaine laughed, as did some of the other Knights though Arthur remained quiet, pensive, "I spoke with Guinevere about this last night." he addressed Leon, "I would like you to accompany the Queen on a visit to Nemeth. Their stance on magic was less hardline than my Father's. It might make them sympathetic to our reforms."

"Of course." Leon nodded in agreement, "When do we depart?"

"Tomorrow morning." Arthur's attention moved round to Gwaine, "You will be acting First Knight in Leon's absence."

Mordred suppressed a smile at Gwaine's dumbfounded expression, "You're sure?"

"Yes." Arthur wasn't smiling, he was serious.

"You've met me, right?" Gwaine questioned, eyebrows raised.

"Yes. And it's time your experience played into more than just carousing." Arthur pulled up straight, fingertips resting on the table, "You are a Knight of Camelot Sir Gwaine. It's time you acted like it."

Gwaine's expression darkened. He knew what Arthur was doing. Drawing a distinction between the Crown and the Sorcerer hidden in the shadows alongside it. Judging by the fire flaring in Arthur's deep blue eyes he knew what he was doing. Taking a slow breath, he bowed his head, "Of course Sire. I'm honoured."

Arthur nodded sharply, "Good. I should think so." and his attention returned back to the map, and a full, frank discussion on what their options truly were.

\--

Arthur's intention to allow magic users within the Citadel had spread with alarming speed through the rest of the city. The people were tense and uncertain. An entire generation had been taught fear and hatred, glorying in the death of the latest body on the pyre with a vehemence encouraged by their king. Now Arthur was shifting the ground from beneath them and they weren't convinced he was doing the right thing.

Mordred tried to be open minded, but he was finding it very difficult to hold his tongue as an argument raged at a tavern in lower town. This was supposed to be his evening off. An ale and some down time away the citadel that was growing more stressful day after day. Arthur was determined to open up magic and prepare for war at the same time, and without his Queen or Emrys around his more authoritarian tendencies were taking over. Regardless of how much Mordred tried to ignore it, Arthur was Uther's son. Making demands and expecting someone else to find the solutions was how he'd been raised, after all.

"They're animals!" one man shouted, to a low roar of agreement, "Sorcerer's kill. Everyone knows that!"

"Don't be stupid." retorted another man, waving his hand dismissively, "Sorcerer's are people jus' like everyone else."

"How can they be?" asked another voice, a woman who seemed sharp and tense, "They have magic-they can kill us with less than a thought."

Mordred's nostrils flared and he looked deep into his ale. It didn't taste of anything anymore. His heart was beating too quickly, his magic lashing beneath his skin. Eager to do something to soothe his temper. This was the real problem, he decided. Ignorance.

Magic was variable, it's nature frequently mimicking the person it gifted. Those predisposed to rational thought and kindness made good healers. In the same vein people patient and forward thinking were skilled at farming and construction. Sorcerer's were no more capable or willing to kill than the ordinary man. They had the same pressures and fears as most. More, even. Under Uther's reign of terror it was no surprise that an unsurpassed number took to the aggressive, less controllable side of magic. When under duress, terrified with nothing left to lose people lashed out as any other animal would.

Magic users had been living in peace when Uther began his campaign. The Priestesses of the Old Religion hugged their spells tight, keeping their power bound to faith. As tightly controlled and delivered as any of Uther's freedoms. Gods it would have been so easy back then. The majority of magic users were peaceful, existing outside the suffocating confines of the Old Religion. Relying on light, instinctive gifts passed down from parent to child, using magic to light fires, aid farming or heal wounds.

"I'd take a breath if I were you."

Mordred jumped and shot his head round. Somehow Gwaine had slipped in behind him, dressed in a dark cloak, arms crossed, carefully watching the argument unfold.

"I think I need to leave." he tried to stand but Gwaine's hand pressed down on his shoulder, "Gwaine!"

He took the seat on Mordred's right, flashing a smile at the old man he'd dislodged before leaning over and saying beneath the noise, "You need to hear it. Things will only get worse once the members of Arthur's court start suspecting one another."

Mordred paled, "You think they will?"

"Of course." Gwaine called over his shoulder for another two tankards, "They're nobles. Things have been cosy for them the last few years-a lot of land was seized during The Purge. Wasn't just Druids and farmhands that Uther tossed on the pyre. One of his most favoured generals and a couple of rivals to the throne were found to have harboured sorcerer's as well."

Mordred flushed with rage and the candles around him flickered, "He did that!"

"Yes." Gwaine's voice was low and he rested a hand gently on Mordred's wrist, "Unlike Uther, Arthur doesn't need to rely so much on their military resources, but their wealth is his wealth." a couple of tankards landed hard in front of them and Gwaine thanked the barmaid, handing her a couple more coins than needed before hunkering back down, "Magic users are one things. Educated magic users however..."

Sipping from his drink, Mordred forced himself to listen to the unfolding arguments. It had descended into anecdote. One said a sorcerer had killed his brother. The death had been violent, sudden and without cause. Another retorted that her daughter had been saved when nothing else could. And so on and so forth. Glancing sidelong at Gwaine, who remained hunched over, not appearing to take anything in but he was listening keenly.

"I thought you weren't allowed time off." Mordred muttered.

"Leon never took time off." Gwaine corrected, throwing him a grin, "I'm not Leon."

"Clearly." Mordred said dryly, "He won't be happy."

"He gave up being happy years ago." Gwaine's voice was unexpectedly heavy, as he rubbed his roughly stubbled jaw with one hand, before looking sidelong at Mordred, "How are you?"

"Me?" Mordred was surprised, "I'm fine. Why wouldn't I be?"

Gwaine shrugged, "I would have thought you had some...personal stake in unfolding events."

Taking a long, careful sip of his drink Mordred answered slowly, "I do." he placed his tankard down on the heavy table, one ear on the debate that was growing more and more heated, "I just...don't know what to make of it all, really. It's so much clearer from the outside." he frowned, "I don't understand how Emrys coped all these years."

"Because someone had to." Gwaine answered for him, expression stern, heat and loyalty burning in his dark eyes.

"You miss him." Mordred said softly.

"Of course." he flashed another blinding grin, "It's got a bit serious all of a sudden. Thing about having Merlin around, he always knew how to have a good time."

"Well." Mordred looked into his drink and something in his expression shifted a little, "Yes."

Gwaine gazed at him a beat longer, before shifting the conversation onto lighter things. The changes he intended to make to their drills, general observations about new fighting techniques he wanted to try out. Demonstrating an unexpected creative flare for leadership and training clearly buried beneath consistent good humour. In the end Mordred grew sick of the ongoing argument and decided to head back to the citadel, Gwaine at his elbow, who was quiet for once. His mind clearly drifting elsewhere.

When they reached the Knight's quarters, Gwaine paused, resting his fingertips against the stone wall, "Have you ever found time while running for your life to take someone to bed?"

Mordred flushed, "Of course."

Gwaine's expression was appraising, "And how did you like it?"

"Well enough." he muttered, wondering where this was going. Gwaine didn't seem to be seducing him as such. The expression he wore was too abstract for that, dark eyes flickering in the lamplight. Gods he was lovely. Strong, sensuous, with thick, lustrous hair and full red lips. Mordred felt warm, tingling a little as though he'd drank too much. It was his magic, he realised, reaching out across the small gap between them, eager to slip beneath layers of cloth and get at the hot skin beneath. Gwaine's eyes widened a little as he felt it. Being with Merlin had clearly made him sensitive to such things.

"I see." his voice was low, lips curling into a smile that wasn't quite warm, "If 'well enough' is all you can muster then clearly you haven't been doing it correctly."

"Oh." he could feel some of his discomfort fading, falling into Gwaine's lead, "Do you have any suggestions for how I could...amend my education?"

"A few." his grin was sharp as he withdrew, "Perhaps another night, Mordred. We have much work to do after all. Camelot never sleeps." and he spun round, heading towards his own rooms, leaving Mordred to ready himself for bed. Alone. It surprised him, quite how much that stung.

\--

It was warm beneath the sun, nearby the was forest calm and still. He sighed, breathing in the damp scent of the earth, the gentlest breeze caressing his skin. All of his skin.

Just as Arthur realised he was naked, he also realised he was aching, and desperately hard. The heat of the sun matching the desperate fever building in his core.

Water lapped nearby and he moved up onto his elbows. A single figure stood alone in the lake. White skin as smooth as alabaster, as remote, indifferent to the heat at his back. All attention focussed on the distant storm. While they were in the light, dark, rolling clouds encompassed the horizon. Arthur got to his feet, cock swaying, arse aching as though he'd recently been taken. A deep, dull throb of pain nearing pleasure that was making him dizzy.

"Merlin." he kept his voice clear, and strong.

There was no response.

"Merlin." his tone was more entreating than commanding this time, and Merlin turned, so beautiful and terrifying Arthur could only stand. Stare. As lightening struck the island at the centre of the lake, darkness racing to devour the sun.

"Arthur." there was a deep, serious relief in his voice that drew Arthur closer to the shore. He tried stepping into the water, and couldn't. An invisible barrier blocked his way. Merlin's smile shifted into a sadness so profound Arthur felt his heart break. As though he wasn't already walking around with pieces of him shattered by decisions made too long ago.

"Merlin!" he couldn't keep the panic out of his voice, wind started to lash at them, lightening striking the water. Merlin's body shuddered, his white skin cracking with burns. Panicking, Arthur reached out, desperate to touch him but he couldn't. He stood alone in the light while Merlin kept his arms outstretched, eyes glowing, a string of words as old and deadly as the storm pouring from his mouth.

The stillness of the lake shattered as a great wave gathered, lightening striking freely now, while Merlin stood there alone. Flayed by darkness while Arthur remained in the sun. Too hot. Desperate to help. Desperate to do something. Paralysed into watching as water pulled Merlin under, claimed, by nature, by magic, by his own need to keep Arthur safe no matter what.

"Merlin." his voice was broken, raw from shouting, arms sore from banging uselessly against the wall of Merlin's power.

The storm cleared. Merlin was nowhere to be found. Free to he walked direct into the water, shivering, shouting as tears streamed down his cheeks. How stupid, to think he knew what despair was before. The reasons for their separation a shade in comparison to the totality of this loss.

A crown, a throne. Human trinkets and trappings that were excuses for holding back. Merlin wasn't just a potential lover, an illicit affair in the making. Merlin was Emrys who was Magic. The usual rules didn't apply.

_It does not have to be this way._

Arthur spun round. A woman stood above the water. Silvery, beautiful and exuding a slow, deep sort of compassion that he simply couldn't comprehend.

"What do you mean?"

"Emrys has fought alone for too long." her voice was soft, and girlish, but her eyes were ancient, "There has been so much death, and betrayal. Each day Merlin fades. Each day Emrys takes his place."

Arthur rubbed his eyes with the heel of his hands, feeling young, and lost, his body was still aching and hollow though his cock had long since softened, "What do I do?"

"Merlin is yours, Majesty." her smile was sad, but kind, "If his devotion remains unrequited the destruction of Albion and everything you have fought for will be devoured by Morgana's hatred."

"It can't be that simple." he murmured.

"You are two sides of the same coin." she was moving toward him, the water rippling softly at her feet, "Emrys cannot stand behind you. It is not his place."

"I know." he pulled up straighter, no longer interested in his nudity, the cold, not when there was duty to attend to, "But I am married, my Lady. I must produce an heir to secure the future of Camelot. As much as I-" he paused, couldn't say it, and continued on, "There are reasons why we cannot be...but I can, and will, raise him up. Ensure that all of Albion knows that magic has a place at the heart my kingdom."

"In service of your kingdom." the Lady responded, some of her kindness bleeding away, replaced by a low thrumming anger that Arthur felt in bones, "Magic is a constant, it is wild, and aware. Emrys is its avatar in this period of struggle and if you do not accept it all, on its own true terms it will twist, break and shatter." she took a slow, deep breath, "I am bound to Emrys. Tied to the destiny laid out for you both. I entreat you to see sense."

"You love him." Arthur was breathless, instinctive jealousy replaced by a sudden, unexpected relief at finding an ally who knew what it was like. What _he_ was like.

She glanced away, and back again, her silvery eyes firming as the ethereal aspect faded. The Lady seemed more human, face flooding with pink warmth. Ancient sadness subsumed by youthful determination.

"We were going to run away together." she informed him and Arthur was staggered by how much that confession hurt, scraping at the hollow wound where Merlin had been, "No one else cared or understood, but he did." tears lined her eyes, "But I ran! I was planning to leave him to you, and you killed me anyway!"

Arthur felt heat prickle on his scalp, "I never harmed you."

"I was cursed. Cast out." her nostrils flared, and she visibly brought her temper back under control, before simply saying, "The Bastet."

Nausea rolled through his stomach and had this been something more than a dream he knew he would be sick.

"Merlin loved you." he said softly, turning it all over in his head. The moment when Merlin's behaviour started to shift, changing from the bright, openly affectionate boy to the man he was now. A thread of coldness running beneath his ferocity. There had been a string of lovers over the years. Some women, plenty of men. Merlin had always been free with his body and its desires but no one got near to his heart. Arthur always assumed it was because he had taken up residence long ago, appropriated it as though it was his right. Idiotic, of course.

"He did, as much as he was able." she agreed, her anger fading once more into sadness, "However, that is the past. All that matters now is the future." she flowed away from him, "Between you both there is opportunity for liberty and harmony for all magical and non magical people. Be who you are supposed to be Arthur Pendragon, and perhaps there is a chance."

The lake faded and Arthur's eyelids snapped back. Red canopy. Empty bed. Guinevere was in Nemeth. Merlin wasn't here.

There was a knock at his door. Feeling groggy and disorientated, Arthur sat up, called, "Enter!"

Gwaine strode through, flanked by Mordred and Elyan, "Arian and his party have arrived."

Arthur's attention sharpened, "They're early."

"You're late." Gwaine was at his wardrobe, tearing through it with the same lack of consideration Merlin used to, "We've spent the last hour trying to wake you."

"What?" he glanced at Mordred whose expression was blank, too blank, before his position as King reasserted and he snapped at Gwaine, "You clearly weren't trying hard enough."

"Doesn't matter." Gwaine threw a heap of clothes at him, "They're already looking smug and not as afraid as they ought to be."

"Merlin needs to be here." Elyan said and they all looked at him, surprised. It wasn't often that he volunteered his opinion on anything, "They don't care about Kings, or Knights, or castles. All they care about is magic."

"All they care about is ensuring their children's survival." Gwaine's retort was unexpectedly harsh, "If they want The Mighty Emrys they will have to earn his presence." he turned on his heel, muttering, "Gods only know how much we've all taken it for granted." and the door shut, giving Arthur a limited time to get ready before facing the Druids.

The initial meeting was tense and Arthur struggled to throw off the weight of his dream, that wasn't quite a dream. The Lady, sad and compassionate. The storm. Merlin's cracked and burning skin. The fear of loss so palpable he could hardly focus on these initial negotiations. He had half a mind to just sign the law today, call Geoffrey and put down anything so Merlin would cross the forbidden boundary to Camelot and come home.

"Sire."

Arthur glanced up. Gaius was looking at him, blue eyes imploring.

"Of course." he looked across at Arian, "Our children should be schooled side by side."

"Forgive us, Majesty." Tamera said quietly, "You seem...distracted."

"Magic sings from you." Daegal observed, searching him carefully from the opposite side of the table, "Though it's trace isn't one I recognise."

Arthur's eyes narrowed, "I am the King of Camelot. Watch what you say."

He suddenly pulled back, shocked by the implication, "No! Sire. That is not what I meant."

"Then what did you mean?" Gwaine asked tersely, unable to keep his mouth shut like a good First Knight should.

"I meant-" he appealed to his allies, "It's not malicious. Or an enchantment. Just-like you were visited by something, or someone."

That was it. Arthur was done. The meeting was dismissed when he abruptly stood up and walked away. Desperate to get out into the bright early evening air. Gwaine and Mordred at his elbow all the way, keeping pace as he strode from the bottom of the steps to the ramparts at the very top of tallest tower. The winding steps kept his body working as flashes of last night's dream continued to blink across his consciousness. When he reached the top he made for the edge, clasping the wall, as he breathed in great gulps of cold air.

Gwaine and Mordred held back, which he was thankful for. One long slow breath after another, letting the gathering darkness sooth his wrecked nerves. This was ridiculous. He was King of Camelot. Walking out of important negotiations because he was unsettled by a bad dream just wasn't acceptable.

"Fuck!" he smacked his hand hard against the stone and spun around, pointing at Gwaine, "You tell him to come home."

Gwaine blinked, "I'm sorry."

"Don't play the fool. I've had quite enough of that to last me a lifetime." he strode forward, "I know you've seen him. I know you know where he is and I am commanding you to go and tell him to come home!"

Gwaine blinked once, slowly, "I don't think I can do that."

Arthur glared at him, pulling up every ounce of rage and majesty he possessed, "You will bring him home."

"You think it's as easy as that!" Gwaine demanded back, "I didn't see him for a month and he grew a tree!"

Arthur's eyebrows shot up, "What?"

"A massive fucking oak!" he gestured with his hands, as though that would communicate anything clearly, "Just from sitting there! Do you really think he's going to come back just because you sent me?"

Arthur ran his fingers through his hair and tried not to grip too hard, "Then what am I supposed to do? Elyan was right. The Druids are loyal to him, not me. Their demands are too high and unless I can be sure that he is-" _mine_ , "Camelot's I can't get through these discussions."

Mordred shuffled a little and Arthur's attention moved directly to him, waiting for the comment he was clearly desperate to make. After a short staring match Mordred's shoulders slumped a little and he said, with some reluctance, "I don't think he's ready to return, Majesty."

"What makes you so certain?"

Mordred closed his eyes and took a deep breath, before steeling himself and looking directly into Arthur's eyes, "Because Emrys asked me to do his duty when he cannot."

 _Emrys._ Just as he thought.

"I wondered when you were planning on admitting it." Arthur murmured, his voice perhaps more bitter than expected, hand resting on the hilt of Excalibur for comfort, "You know him as Emrys."

"Druid children were raised on stories of him, and you." his voice was cool, and calm, slipping casually into the first stage of a defensive stance.

Side on. One more familiar to magic users than Knights.

"So you know him, what he is capable of?"

"A little." Mordred replied, moistening his lips and looking sidelong at Gwaine, before addressing Arthur once more, "No more, no less than any other magic user that's gained your attention. Though I, unlike the rest, am fortunate enough to still be alive."

Arthur accepted that, as he was beginning to accept all the other things about Merlin he had been blind to. A secret life that contained cursed lovers, destiny and now murder.

"Why?"

"Why what?" Mordred looked a little bewildered.

"Why are you still alive?"

"Because of you." he responded, as though it ought to be obvious, "You supported my advancement and Merlin made it perfectly clear that if I demonstrated a hint of aggression he would become my enemy proper."

"As opposed to what?"

"My antagonist." Mordred replied, his sarcastic drawl undermined by the fire burning in his pale blue eyes.

"I would never have expected anyone to say that of Merlin." Arthur said quietly, attention drawn to the darkening horizon, the sky turning dull and grey. It was beginning to make sense now, what the Lady had said.

_Each day Merlin fades. Each day Emrys takes his place._

"Fine." he brushed passed them both and returned to the castle. 

Merlin would have his way, for now. Arthur supposed he'd earned it, but there were things he needed to say and he wouldn't wait any longer than he had to. They had work to do and growing trees was hardly an excuse for not getting on, after all.


	5. Chapter 5

Negotiations always took time, and Arthur knew that if he was going to achieve a settlement suitable for his people and the magic users among them, he would need to listen and work carefully to avoid provoking retribution. It was just tiring, requiring more of his mind than his body than he was used to.

As expected there were more attempts on his life, and Mordred dealt with the threat of magic users discreetly enough. Arthur was surpised at how little their defeat satisfied him. For days he had sat, and listened, as old women talked of murdered sons. Children spoke of lost parents. Pregnant mothers and single fathers with no one to support them. A parade of sorry lives, refugees in the war against magic that made him feel both pitiful and regretful.

The more his listened, the more he understood that his knowledge and understanding of magic before the Purge was flawed. Father had always made it seem as though sorcerers themselves were a nation, a race of people with an organised hierarchy and belief structure with the High Priestesses at the top, a league of sorcerers second and Druids drifting aimlessly at the bottom. Certainly nothing that had taken place since had changed that picture. Now, however, he saw how utterly wrong that view had been.

The Druid’s had little to do with the High Priestesses of the Old Religion. They were a nomadic, peaceful people that wound magic into their everyday life, everything from hunting to weaving tied together with threads of magic designed to alleviate even the most mundane tasks into something magical and sacred.

The Priestesses were different. Frequently authoritarian, their pursuit of knowledge lead them into arcane practices more likely to twist and bend into darkness. Powerful artifacts, rituals and determination for the Old Ways to dominate the New were responsible for Nimeuh’s fateful decision to twist life into death, triggering a chain of events that had destroyed thousands of lives irrevocably. 

The rest, he was sickened to discover, were just ordinary citizens of Camelot. Forced by fear of the pyre to identify with the Druids when they had nowhere else to turn. 

As Arthur made notes on what the new reforms needed to do, Merlin’s place in all this started to make sense somehow. It would be easy, he supposed, to just claim Emrys for Camelot. Dress him in red and declare him Judiciary and Master of all Magic in Albion. Certainly it would look impressive, and it would probably make Merlin the most powerful person in form as well as title in the land, but something about that didn’t fit. 

Emrys was as much of a title as King. It was the role Merlin had been forced to play and it was a position he may not have embraced as such, but had certainly used when it suited his purpose. Just as he always had.

King Arthur was fair, but fierce, cool headed in battle, confident, passionate and just. Arthur, in actual fact, was uncertain, frequently blighted by nerves, grim, foul tempered and carelessly cruel. Especially to those closest to him. Just so Emrys was deceitful, brutal in retribution, duty bound and terrifying to behold. Merlin on the other hand was quick witted, silly and charismatic, capable of bringing out the best in everyone. 

Reconciliation between public and private faces grew more difficult as the years went on, until they merged, or were forgotten. Traces of old lives absorbed by current demands. 

Emrys was everything his father feared. Revered enough by all magical people to unite them. Unknowable, with feats of terrible greatness attached to his name. Immortal and as such impossible to kill or control. By virtue of being young, and distinct from the Old Religion Emrys was something special. A tie with the past, with the promise of something new. Existing outside the laws of man, yet making a choice to abide by them. 

When Merlin returned, Arthur was determined for him to have his own role. Not within Camelot, but within Albion. Allow him to be the tie binding all kingdoms. The natural force of magic, supported and aided by Camelot’s resources and experience. Diplomatic skill rather than brute force would be the difference between falling to Morgana and her Saxons. Forcing his will on others would not see them through the coming years, of that he was absolutely certain.

Provided he could create an atmosphere of firm acceptance and head off unrest before it had time to take root. 

Midway through another meeting with magic users from the south, Gwaine tapped him on the shoulder to inform him Guinevere had returned, with Mithian’s brother Prince Garrick in tow. Arthur nodded briefly and returned his attention to the magic user currently speaking, an old man determinedly laying out what it would take for him and his people to feel safe again.

Previous experience had given Arthur the ability to listen without making promises, which was helpful as the longer these talks went on, the better the magic users became at negotiation. Once all the crying, impassioned speeches and assassination attempts were out of the way it seemed to dawn on them that they were here to ask for something, and Arthur was certain that someone was consulting them on how to go about it.

The Druid leaders were effective, in their own way. They at least knew what they wanted. It was the other loose groups that had built up their alliances in the camp outside the city gates that should have been the easiest to handle, but were rapidly becoming a decent opposition. This was the third discussion that was very close to becoming an interrogation, brute forcing Arthur’s vague political answers and almost pushing him into a corner. It was impressive as it was irritating. 

By now he’d grown accustomed to each of their faces. He’d gone out into the camps, and made sure to glimpse every single person at least once. Arthur knew who they all were by sight if not by name. 

Apart from one woman, who he could only catch the barest glimpse of. Raven hair, white skin and flashing eyes. Whipping round a corner, disappearing into a crowd. When he had asked for her name no one could give it, but none denied that she was there, which at least meant he wasn’t going insane. Arthur considered that a small victory at the very least. 

That night he dined with Guinevere in their shared rooms, with Prince Garrick. Young, as beautiful as his sister, his charm just as barbed. Nemeth, unlike Camelot, thrived on its money rather than military and its royalty reflected those concerns. 

“What would you make of him?” Garrick asked, taking a slow bite of meat.

“Of whom?” Arthur questioned, as a servant refilled his empty goblet.

“Emrys.” his pale lips slipped into a smile that revealed too many teeth.

Arthur sipped the wine and answered with a smile, “Ten years he stood at my left hand and no one noticed. Now he’s it’s gone it seems to be the only thing people want to talk about.”

“With good reason.” Garrick leant forward, an avaricious gleam in his lovely green eyes, “My old nursemaid used to tell us stories. Of the Old Kings and their battles with the gods. How they struggled to overcome the sorcerer's that cavorted at their knee in exchange for power.” 

“Dark stories for children.” Arthur said, his tone light as he exchanged a brief glance with Guinevere who was delicately finishing her meal.

“She was a dark woman.” his eyes glittered, “Uther murdered her family.”

Arthur blinked slowly, “A sorry tale I have heard frequently of late.”

“I’m sure you have.” Garrick’s eyes drifted towards the door, where Mordred stood on guard just outside, “I know each nation has their version of how things were after the fall of Imperial, of the Druid leaders that took command and tried to spread the message of peace, and unity, until the Warlords clawed their way out of the dirt and decided the earth would be better soaked in blood.”

“It was a brutal period.” Arthur agreed. 

“Indeed. The Druid’s were descendents of the first magic users, unready for war, without the thirst for death the Warlords thrived off. They made concessions when they should have fought. Let their magic scatter when it should have been strengthened. It was only under the guidance of the Priestesses that magic found its place once again. Became threat enough for your father to do as his forebearers and wipe it from the face of the earth once more.”

“Is this where you name Emrys saviour?” Arthur raised an eyebrow.

Garrick’s lips turned down a little in mocking consideration, “That’s the children’s version of the story. That Emrys and his unnamed, unknown, but much lauded Golden King will unite us all under the banner of truth and harmony.”

“You sound cynical, Sire.” Guinevere interjected, her expression neutral but intense. 

“I’m surprised you aren’t, my Lady.” Garrick responded, but he pulled back a little so he could include her in the conversation, “We were taught that Emrys was named for a god. In the pantheon of nature he was the most unknowable, offerings to him were approved seemingly at random and any visitation was so overwhelming none could speak of it ever again. Unlike the other gods that held one aspect he was many, capable of altering his very gender to suit his needs.” Arthur felt hair rise on the back of his neck, but knew that his face remained cool and entirely neutral, “The Druid’s speak of his return as a Hailing, a beginning, but my sister and I were told something different.”

“Which would be what?” Gwen asked, fire from the heart reflecting in her eyes.

“Emrys has no cause.” Garrick’s lips twitched, “That there is nothing to bind him and when the King is betrayed and killed, his fury will be loosed upon Albion. It will burn to ash and he will remain alone in the world that he has unmade-awaiting his lover's return."

A lake, a storm. The crack of lightning and burning flesh. Arthur felt his fingers tighten on the arm of his seat but otherwise held everything else in check. 

"Have you ever met Merlin, my Lord?" Gwen questioned, a steely look in her eye.

"Once, I believe." he smirked, "Surprisingly comely for a servant."

Gwen pursed her lips, "Yes, well, if you took the time to look beyond his outer appearance you would know him incapable of such destruction.

"Merlin is kind and loyal. He would never harm anyone in the senseless way you describe."

Garrick blinked slowly, the corner of his lip curling, "It is not Merlin of whom I speak, my Lady. It is Emrys."

"They are the same person." she insisted, voice tight.

Garrick merely hummed and tore off a piece of bread, "We shall see."

Arthur shifted conversation into safer matters like Mithian's numerous suitors and the gossip from court. The observations rolled off his tongue and he thought he did a decent job of pretending everything was alright. Until he was alone with Gwen, who was so angry at Garrick’s blatant insinuations she was tearing off her clothing and leaving it behind her on the floor, to trample on as she paced. 

He heard mention of “jumped up little”, “arrogant shit”, and “show him old gods” as he sipped from the remaining wine, trying to focus on the world he was in, rather than the one he’d been shown. 

“Don’t you think Arthur?” he blinked and sipped from his drink, Guinevere was glowering at him, “Arthur? You don’t believe him do you?”

Arthur rubbed his brow, the crown felt heavy this evening, “I believe that our destinies are linked, and I believe that Merlin has the potential to do as Garrick suggested.” he sighed, “I just don’t know how much I need to give to ensure that Albion will survive after I have gone.”

Gwen gazed at him and shot out in a cold voice, “So you admit that you’re lovers?”

“No.” he slipped the empty goblet on the table and rose from the table, removing his circlet and placing it on the side, “Merlin and I have never been lovers.”

Lips tightly pursed, expression keen, she strode towards him, pointing in Arthur’s face, “If you’re lying to me Arthur-”

“You are my wife Guinevere!” he shouted, sick and tired of having his fidelity tested, “I love you! I married you!”

“Yes, and I always wondered what changed your mind.” her voice was low, but some of the anger had cleared, “You banished me Arthur.”

“I did.”

“Then welcomed me back.”

“I did.”

“Why?”

Arthur removed his cloak and decided he was weary of this and just wanted to sleep, “I told you, Guinevere. I love you. I’m not certain I need more reason than that.”

Guinevere pursued him, as he tugged off his clothes, dumping them on the floor as she had, “Your affection for me has never been consistent and I frequently worry about it’s depth, but you treat me better than most Queen’s I’ve met are treated by their husbands and I saw no reason to to push.”

Arthur looked up from where he was leaning over to remove his boot, irritated, “Then do not.”

“I cannot help it!” she cried, throwing her hands up in the air, “Since this began you have not been yourself.”

“I have done my duty.” he retorted, throat tight, head starting to throb with an anger he was too tired to deal with.

“The Arthur I married would not tolerate Merlin’s disappearing act!” she tore out a night dress from the nearby drawer and tossed the worn shift aside, “Rather than sit here talking to magic users, he would be out, on the hunt. Using any and all skills at his disposal to drag him back and explain what the bloody hell he’s been playing at for all these years!”

Arthur blinked incredulously, "Gwen I'm not a Prince anymore. I can't just take off on whatever quest takes my fancy."

"Merlin isn't a quest."she stated baldly, "He is your best friend."

He is infinitely more than that.

"Merlin isn't ready to be found." Arthur said softly, "It's something that will just have to be tolerated." 

Gwen huffed and threw aside the bedsheets, muttering, "This isn't you Arthur. If I didn't know any better I'd say you were putting it off."

"Putting what off?" he groaned, blowing out the nearest candle.

"Confronting him."

"And why would I do that?" gods he sounded weary.

"He's never been your equal before." Gwen said softly, her body stiff and tense beneath the covers, "I am under no illusions that if it weren't for Merlin I would not be sharing your bed, but I will not share our marriage." she turned to face him and Arthur reluctantly turned to look at her, at the fiery determination he so loved, "You are my husband, my King, and will not tolerate you having feelings for another, no matter who they are. Not now. Not ever."

Arthur rolled his eyes and dragged her close, kissing the top of her dark curls, "Nor will you have to."

Gwen surged up to kiss him and Arthur felt so guilty about everything he succumbed to all of her advances. Let his Queen take him in her mouth, before clambering onto his hips and taking what she wanted. 

For the first time in months, as the darkness held, he climaxed inside his wife's body and felt so sick at the thought of her getting with child he could scarcely bear to hold Guinevere's gaze. The challenge in her expression as she resolutely climbed off him. Pulled across the covers, saying nothing further.

That night Arthur dreamt of Merlin. The laughter and affection they once shared as boys and used the warmth to pull him through the last of these infernal meetings.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So be prepared for Lady!Merlin who was heavily influenced by some of my favourite Lady!Loki's. 
> 
> I thought it might be fun to try out and it was. So she's going to crop up a bit more here and there once this section is out the way-but don't worry. The slash is slash for a reason!

Worn out from another day of harrowing talks, Gaius retired gratefully to his chambers. After the devastation of The Purge, he never believed he would see the return of magic to Camelot within his lifetime, and the excitement of it all was frankly a little too much for his old heart to take.

That said, he approved of how everything had been conducted thus far. Arthur’s decision to include magic users in his repeal was a wise one. Brawling outside the city gates was a regular occurrence as magical and non magical people worked out how to communicate with one another again. Gwaine’s order that the City Guard hold back on intervention until they looked on the verge of causing serious harm was allowing them to beat out their frustrations in an unofficial setting, outside the King’s hearing, and wearing out the steam of any early opposition.

Everyone got along together once, and Gaius was convinced they could do so again. They would have to.

When he returned to his rooms, he found candles in the laboratory lit, and a woman relaxing comfortably at the table reading a book. Two places had been set, with a large plate of food and a carafe of wine laid out and waiting.

Gaius paused in the doorway, raised an eyebrow and questioned, “Can I help you?”

“No. I’m quite alright.” she answered distractedly, turning a page and picking up a piece of bread without glancing up.

“Are you sure?” he closed the door, “If you require a consultation I’m afraid it will have to wait until morning.”

“I’m not here for a consultation.” another page, another bite of food, “You should eat. Arthur has been taking advantage of your experience without adequately noticing the number of years it’s taken you to accumulate it.”

Very few spoke of the King so casually, and even less with that low hint of irritation and disdain. Pulling back a seat, he very carefully observed the woman’s pale skin, long raven hair and full red mouth. Dressed in sapphire, a simple enough design carried off in material worthy only of the Queen of Camelot. It was low cut, almost subconsciously provocative. Much like it’s wearer.

“Merlin.” Gaius couldn’t decide if he was thrilled or frustrated to see him back within Camelot’s walls.

“Not today.” she finally glanced up, and there was no mistaking the sparkle of those midnight blue eyes, “Today I am Minerva.”

“The Virgin Goddess?” Gaius noted, pouring a goblet of wine, “Really Merlin?”

Merlin, Minerva, smirked and turned another page of her book, “I’ll have you know this body hasn’t been broken in yet.”

Gaius snorted involuntarily and Minerva threw him a saucy grin, so reminiscent of the boy he thought he had lost a wave of affection and relief threatened to overwhelm him.

To head it off before things became embarrassing, Gaius pulled over a meat pie and remarked instead, “Your glamour is convincing.”

“It isn’t a glamour.” she sipped from her goblet and closed the book, but only after shifting in a piece of paper between the pages so her place wouldn’t be lost, “It’s a spell of my own design, similar to the aging potion I consumed to become Dragoon.”

“So you are truly a woman then?” he was impressed, “How does it feel?”

“Good. Powerful.” she smirked, “It makes swaying people to Arthur’s side so much easier. A glance from beneath my eyelashes,” she angled her head lower, and gazed at Gaius from beneath long black lashes, “a slow, husky tone,” her voice grew deeper, dryer, “a bitten lip,” one white tooth pushed into the fullness of her lower lip, “and I have them, without having to engage any magic whatsoever.”

Gaius eyed her carefully before making an uneasy comparison, “You look like Morgana’s younger sister.”

Minerva sat up straighter, her expression much more pragmatic, “She is my sister Gaius, and I failed her.”

This was an old argument and Gaius sighed as he reached out to touch her frail wrist, “The damage was done long before you got here my boy-” she shot him a look and he smiled, “my girl. Morgana has twisted herself towards hatred and all we can do now is hope to hold her off.”

“We’ll be doing much more than that if I have anything to say about it.” she dismissed with her free hand as she moved the other to grasp his, her fingers deft and strong, fire burning in her eyes, “I’ve delayed their campaign until after winter. Advise Arthur to pass the law within the month and give command of the magic users to Mordred and Gwaine. They’ll adapt better than Leon.”

Gaius gripped her hand back, though his throat was uncomfortable and dry, “He passes this law for you Merlin. You need to come home.”

Her nostrils flared, pale cheeks flushed, “No.”

“No?” he was confused, “Arthur needs you-the magic users need you-Camelot is where you belong.”

Minerva’s gaze was steady, but Gaius felt magic gathering around her. Before Merlin left reactions like these became a common occurrence. As the fight to conceal his magic grew harder, and the moment to reveal it continued indefinite, Gaius watched Merlin’s moods shift further away from light towards darkness. Stalemate with Morgana existed because as Arthur’s manservant and protector, Merlin’s reach and abilities were limited. The ever present threat of execution weighing on every decision without hope of recognition or reward.

It never occurred to Arthur that it could be true. A random accusation from an itinerant sorcerer hoping to gain recognition for his attempt on the King’s life was scarcely anything to take seriously. Gaius believed the only reason Merlin admitted to the mantle of Emrys before the court of Camelot was because he was bored, feeling spiteful and sick to death of playing by someone else’s rules. Faith in Arthur hadn’t changed anything, so it was time to find something that would.

“Do you know what occurred last night?” Minerva asked softly.

“Something outside the talks?” Gaius wasn’t sure there was time for much else.

“Guinevere conceived the heir of Camelot.” her voice was low, expression masked, but magic thickened in the air.

Gaius blinked, and wondered why he could feel dread at the base of his stomach rather than the happiness and relief he expected, “How do you know that?”

“My magic is shackled to Arthur through the destiny we are forced to share.” her lids were lowered, voice slow, and venomous, almost akin to the act of seduction she had played earlier but infinitely truer and more dangerous, “I played with the thread, extended its range, to warn me if anything in the fabric was shifting. New players on the board. Morgana drawing in, or Mordred changing allegiance.”

“That’s…” Gaius didn’t know what to say, “Reading destiny is not a mortal responsibility.”

“No.” she agreed, her fingers warm still in his hand, “I felt the moment my magic extended to encompass the child in her womb. It recognises Arthur, and is protecting and nourishing the speck of a child even as I sit here now, while they both remain in blissful ignorance.”

Gaius could feel his eyes beginning to prickle in sympathy for her pain. It was deep, and wounding. The older he grew, the crueller their fate seemed. Two sides of the same coin. Forever joined, yet forever standing back to back. Staring out in different directions, never to look each other’s way. It was too much too ask of boys still learning themselves, and still more of men that knew each day the meaning of what they had lost, while being faced with difficult decisions, the consequences of which would be felt down the centuries.

“Minerva.” speaking the name she had chosen seemed important somehow, and when she glanced at him her expression softened, warmth flooding her striking eyes, “No matter how things stand with the King, you belong here. Camelot needs you.”

“It has me.” she said softly, eyes shimmering before she looked away, delicately wiping away a tear with the back of her hand, “Sorry, Gaius. I’ve been unsettled, recently. I’m worried I’m developing The Sight and it’s interfering with my sleep.” she smiled wryly, “No wonder Morgana went mad.”

Gaius matched her smile, “Should I ask what you see, or should I just assume it’s war and leave it at that?”

“You could.” she agreed, looking troubled before squeezing his hand once more and pouring them both another goblet, “But the future isn’t remotely fixed. The outcomes are shifting and every tweak on this wretched destiny gives me a headache. The bloody baby gave me a migraine. It doesn’t even have consciousness yet and it’s already causing me more trouble than its father.”

Gaius repressed a smile and said almost seriously, “The child couldn’t have been luckier in its guardian.”

Minerva took a slow sip of wine, humming, “I’m not entirely sure about that Gaius, but I suppose we shall see.” her expression became mischievous and she leant forward on her elbows, “So. Who do I have to threaten or blackmail into submission to get this law passed without incident?”

Gaius threw him a look both fond and exasperated, “I lament the death of your innocence sometimes.”

“Pfft.” she waved that away, “It’s much too late to be upset about that. Now come along. We have plotting to do.”

Charmed by the food and the company, Gaius shared his opinion of the council and found himself once again swept up in Minerva’s bright and unstoppable energy. In truth he had been lonely without her rattling about his rooms and it was fun to be involved again, as something more than a walking-talking piece of history.

Minerva shot out quick, intelligent observations and was clearly relishing the prospect of taking down Lord Warwick in particular. The decadent old sot was a plague on the citadel, with a propensity for abusing his children, forcing himself on the maids and holding his wealth over the Crown as though Arthur couldn’t seize it whenever he felt like. Without a doubt he was likely to vote against the repeal. He was one of those minor nobles that had benefitted from Uther’s rampage and Gaius fully expected him to be a dangerous enemy in the coming weeks.

“I’ll talk to Gwaine.” Minerva’s cheeks were flushed from the wine and if Gaius had been twenty years younger he would have thought her distractingly ravishing, “Now that Leon’s back he’ll have some free time.” her smile was wicked, “And I do love leading him astray.”

Gaius raised an eyebrow, “The less I know about how you spend your time together, the better.”

He still hadn’t recovered from wandering into his lab to find Gwaine’s wrists tied to the table leg by his belt, while Minerva-then Merlin-was buried between his legs doing something Gaius would rather not remember.

Extra leeches and extra tanks had been bought in retaliation.

Minerva’s eyes sparkled, clearly remembering the same thing before she moved the conversation onto Prince Garrick and the rest of Camelot’s prospective allies. By the time he got to bed Gaius was drunk and significantly wearier, even as his mind buzzed with possibility again.

If only he could persuade Minerva to stay, he knew that Camelot would be safer and better prepared to cope with what was coming.

Then he remembered the promise of a child and Gaius felt his years settle again. Reconciliation between them both would be impossible now and he desperately hoped that Minerva could find someone else worthy of her love.

It wasn’t fair that Arthur had the dedication of not just Minerva and his wife, but an entire kingdom, while all she got for assurance in times of trouble was an old man and a loyal but uncontrollable Knight that Arthur would always be too jealous of to trust.

The fear, deep down, was her heart was too hard now. Too much blood on her hands to feel worthy of anyone, bound by determination and magic into the untouchable Emrys of prophecy. Capable of infinite love, or infinite despair.

Gaius rolled over and sighed into his pillow. The future was still shifting, she said. There was still time for things to go the way they ought to, not just for Minerva’s sake, but that of Albion as well.

There had to be a way, and he would find it. No matter what.

\--

Gwaine was surprised at how much he missed his duties as First Knight. It was only a temporary post, but he'd started to enjoy commanding more respect from the men beyond how much he could drink them under the table.

Camelot was tense at the moment, but Arthur's consultations were coming to an end and soon the real upheaval would begin. Provided he could get it passed the council.

"You look troubled."

Gwaine snapped his head round. A woman was leaning against a wall in an alcove leading towards the dungeons. Her resemblance to Morgana put him on edge at once, and when he gripped the pommel of his sword she noticed, red lips spreading into a wide, mischievous smile he would recognise anywhere.

“Merlin!” he hissed, hustling her back and out of sight in case anyone walked passed.

“Minerva, actually.” she said primly, pushing him back a little and rearranging the dress he’d jostled.

“Minerva.” Gwaine tried out the name and decided that he liked it, “What are you doing here?”

“What do I always do?” she sounded cold and bitter, “Help Arthur.”

Gwaine’s hand rested briefly on her shoulder, before sliding down her long pale arm to briefly grip her hand, “What do you need?”

Which was how an hour later Gwaine found himself pacing just outside Lord Warwick’s chambers as a young druid girl went about her duties. Her name was Kaiya and she’d been so dazzled upon arrival to the citadel that she wanted to stay. It was wonderous, he supposed, to someone that had spent their life outdoors and under canvass. Her appointment as maid had sent ripples of unease through the servants at first. Magic user, sorceress, deceitful liar.

Aware that this was a battle they couldn’t afford to loose, both he and Mordred had gone a little out of their way to show appreciation for her work and after she used a touch of magic to prevent a batch of stew from spoiling she had won Cook’s affection, and with it the rest of the castle.

Sending her directly towards that vicious old bastard was making him nervous, no matter Minerva’s assurances that no harm would come to her. That wily creature had informed him of the plan and duly vanished, informing him that she couldn’t be witnessed anywhere near the scene and trusted Gwaine to ensure Warwick wound up before Arthur like he deserved.

All of a sudden Kaiya screamed and he reacted without thinking. Bursting open the door, he found the poor girl shoved down against the table by her hair, with Warwick’s weight pressed against her from behind.

“Unhand her!” he shouted, drawing his sword and advancing.

Warwick shot him a look, calculating the scene and how he could escape blame, “This is nothing to do with you Sir Gwaine. I recommend that you leave.”

Kaiya struggled and he pushed her harder. She looked at Gwaine, clearly panicking, begging to use magic and he jerked his head to the side to advise no. The accusation would do more harm than good.

“That’s enough!” Gwaine dragged him back, “Kaiya go!”

Warwick’s dark eyes followed her fleeing form with interest, “Do you really think anyone will listen to what that little whore has to say?”

Rather than engage, Gwaine growled under his breath and shoved him towards the dungeons. Kaiya had alerted the guards and they arrived in time to put him in chains, something Warwick treated with almost wearied forbearance, as though he felt sorry for them all for trying.

Gwaine returned to his duties and was only half prepared when Arthur tore through the training field to demand what exactly he’d been playing at.

“He was assaulting that poor girl!” Gwaine snapped, “What do you think I was doing?”

“Warwick is a powerful member of the Council!” Arthur hissed, pointing in his face, “If we want this repeal to happen, we need to keep him happy!”

Gwaine couldn’t believe what he was hearing, “Well in that case let’s chuck all the maids at him then. Close the kitchens and open a brothel. Let him pick his favourite and let our Noble Lord Warwick rape her until she’s full with child and ready to be cast aside like the last three maids that were in the wrong place at the wrong time!” he sneered, “Anything to keep him happy.”

The blood drained from Arthur’s face and he looked as furious as he had ever seen, “You know that isn’t what I mean.”

“He is a lecherous old bastard and he does your Court no good. Getting him in chains at last was a good thing.”

Arthur's nostrils flared and he looked ready to launch into a tirade when his attention was suddenly diverted. Curious, Gwaine glanced over his shoulder to see what the King was looking at.

Minerva was walking along the edge of the field, her face concealed by windswept raven hair. From this distance she had a marked Fey quality, as though she was too intangible to remain on this plane of reality. Ready to disappear into magic without warning.

The thought chilled him.

"Do you know that woman?" Arthur questioned in a distracted tone of voice.

"No. Is she a Druid?"

"I think..." Arthur tracked her until she turned onto the path and out of sight, "No one knows her name."

"She must have come alone."

"No one with clothing of that quality travels alone." Arthur dismissed, frowning as he worked something out before it occurred to him that he was here for a reason, "I'm pulling Warwick up before the Court on charges of sexual assault. Make sure you are there, and your story straight."

Threats made he stomped off back to the castle. It still took getting used to. The attendants that kept their distance and followed behind rather than beside.

Now he looked lonely, diminished somehow without Merlin to take up the empty space.

Or Minerva, as she was going by now.

Giving up the training as a bad job he headed back to his rooms to wash and change. Arthur would drag him to stand before Court ahead of the evening feast and he had to look his best. The value of glamour in Camelot should never be underestimated.

\--

Mordred's sympathy for Emrys grew each day. Maintaining his duties as Knight while keeping Arthur out of trouble was more than a full time job. Camelot was not a relaxed place to be at the moment.

Aside from the seemingly never ending attempts on Arthur's life from vengeful magic users, there were growing numbers of insurgents within the walls of the city determined to stop the King from upsetting the status quo.

The Knights were working closely with Lord Ethian's City Guard to infiltrate these groups and shut them down before they gathered momentum. Technically their crimes were treason, but Arthur daren't enact the charges in case it made a martyr of the rebels, which left them in something of a dilemma.

The King couldn't be seen to make a concession to his enemies-it would make him look weak. Yet under current laws magic users would be condemned for much less. All they could do for now was keep everything quiet, business as usual, while the insurgents were left in the dungeons until such a time as Arthur could deal with them.

At the moment Mordred was back in his mercenary clothes, tracking a man named Rickard. An organised criminal leader turned terrorist who had made a pretty penny trafficking magic users across borders to the highest bidder, where they were enslaved with spells that forced them to do the bidding of their new master.

A seriously nasty piece of work that has been left to operate under Uther because the feeling was as long as they weren't in Camelot, what happened elsewhere wasn't their problem.

The challenge was catching him in the act. Rickard was clever, he operated through other people and any witnesses had the unfortunate tendency to wind up mysteriously dead in Lower Town.

At the moment he was concealed in the shadows, standing outside one of Rickard's 'places of work', listening as he roughed someone up. A woman, if the faint whimpers were anything to go by. There were low mumbles, the ominous sound of chanting, followed by another unmistakable slap.

"It isn't working!"

"Make it work!" there was the rattle of chain and another sickening rush of air, as someone was punched in the stomach, "I need you to get this bitch under control."

"Rickard." an older voice instructed impatiently, "Destroying the goods won't help anything."

Someone coughed and a woman asked in a small voice, "What do you want from me?"

There was another slap, "Shut up slut."

Mordred gripped the hilt of his sword and swallowed down his nausea. Though he may have been on the road for many years, and been party to more than one session of torture, their targets had always been men. Tough old bastards that could take whatever they inflicted with enviable stoicism. Not the defenceless, and certainly never women.

"Please!" the sound of sobbing filled his ears, "I'll do whatever you want-just stop!"

There was a shuffle, the sound of murmurs he couldn't quite catch. It was growing cold and he shivered beneath his cloak, wind rustling his hair, blowing curls into his line of sight. Gwaine was right. It could do with a cut.

"Okay, bitch." his voice was oily and unpleasant, "We're going to get Lewis here to heal those nasty cuts of yours, and you are going to take this knife and shove it through the King's spine when you infiltrate that lovely little celebratory ball he's planning. You understand?"

"I do" there was the rattle of chains. "Mordred!" he jumped, "Did you catch all that!?"

Reacting fast he burst through the only door, shoving back Rickard who was attempting to flee. A ball of fire was thrown in his direction. It would have hit the left side of his face if someone hadn't neutralised it.

"Those chains prevent magic!" hissed the third voice, a heavy set middle aged man with number of scars on his face and a weighty sword at his belt.

"To most, probably. Not to me." she shook the chains free and with a graceful wave of her hand they shot out to wrap around Rickard and his associate. She ignored the last man, Lewis, who appeared to be frozen. A heavy collar around his thin neck.

Mordred still had grip of his sword but he had no use for it. The chains jerked and the two men hovered from the ground as the woman they attempted to hold captive prowled towards them.

Blue dress torn, pale face bruised with blood dripping from red lips, she was a vengeful, fearsome thing. It wasn't until she flicked a glance in his direction that his magic finally reacted and understood.

"Emrys."

Rickard and his associate stilled in their struggles briefly, only for Rickard to hiss, "Lies! Emrys was the King's manservant and you've got no cock to speak off." his face twisted with sneering victory, "I checked."

The woman, Emrys, grasped his chin in long fingers and spoke in a deadly soft voice, "I can be who or whatever I want." her eyes narrowed, "And at the moment what I want is to flay you for all the violations you have committed against innocent men and women."

"Magic users aren't innocent.” Rickard spat, “Uther understood that and so does the new King-for all his false promises."

Emrys raised an eyebrow, there was a flare of gold and Rickard screamed. It was a vile sound that made Mordred's blood run cold. When it stopped he was sagging in the chains.

"That is a taster of the pain you have inflicted, and you are fortunate that Mordred is here to ensure you receive justice." her red lips curled into a facsimile of a smile and she said more warmly, "Because between you and me I'm having a very bad week and I would like nothing more than to sit here and watch you scream."

Mordred moved forwards and before he could say anything her attention was already drawn towards Lewis. When she dropped the freezing spell he threw another fireball at them which she turned to steam with the faintest gesture of her fingers.

With one hand she froze the collar and tore it off. Throwing it into the floor. And with the other she reached out. Touching Lewis' temple. Lewis gasped, and wept, and she drew him into her arms. Whispering comforting words until he slumped into sleep, lowered gently to the floor.

"He knows where the other slaves are." she said softly, expression soft and full of compassion only to shift into resolve when she spun round, demanding, "Save them Mordred."

Unsure how he would do so, he bowed his head and promised, "I will do my best, my Lady."

"Lady?" she sounded amused, "We don't have titles Mordred. They're useless to our kind."

Mordred glanced at the men she had chained up, too frightened to speak, "I'm not sure that's true. My Lady."

Her lips quirked and she stepped towards him, feet bare on the dirty floor, "I'm glad you developed a sense of humour. I was concerned all the violence in your early years would have stamped that out."

Mordred quirked his lips in return, "I always aim to exceed expectations."

And then she laughed. As a man Merlin's laughter was infectious. As a woman it was intoxicating, lending her pale looks heat and radiance. A little dazzled Mordred just stood there, sword loose in his fist.

There was a scuffle nearby and her laughter stopped, smile retracting, followed by a sigh, "Well I suppose I should be getting on then.” she caught Mordred’s spare hand, “Thank you, for what you’ve done for him. It isn’t your burden.”

The guard shouted and Mordred could feel her ready to vanish, so he threw up his magic and tugged her close, “Harmony between us and them isn’t your responsibility alone. I am privileged that you trusted me.” he felt bitter and it carried in its voice, “Your enemy.”

Her face was full of sorrow as she slid closer, long fingers catching the errant curls of his hair, “I bound you through destiny Mordred...I would loosen our ties but that is beyond my ability.”

“Some things ought to be.” Mordred murmured, aware that the guard were closing in and for the first time in years he was furious that he couldn’t declare his magic, his real place in the order of things, “Please, Emrys.”

Someone outside the door shouted and she leant in, pressed her lips to his and murmured, "I'm beyond saving anyone Mordred. That isn't in my future anymore." and before he could stop her she was gone. Prisoners collapsing to the floor with a clatter of metal.

Nostrils flaring in anger Mordred put up his sword and called out. In clipped tones he informed them who to drag back to the keep. Rickard and his man belonged in the dungeons. Lewis required greater care. If he was treated as anything other than a victim Emrys would know, and their chances of saving the other slaves became marginal.

In a grim procession they returned to the keep. Mordred walked at the rear, because despite Emrys’ excellent work with the chains he still expected Rickard to escape. He’d worked in Camelot for too long, with too many people in his ‘employ’ for him to assume that just because they had him now, that they would have him forever.

Trying his hardest to look at ease, Mordred ensured they were properly processed and personally carried Lewis to Gaius. He couldn't have been older than sixteen. A dirty, scrawny thing that looked in need of a few square meals and fresh set of clothes. Gods only knew what traumas he was sleeping through.

Knocking lightly, he waited until the door was pulled back. Gwaine raised an eyebrow and moved aside.

"Mordred." Gaius sounded surprised, "What happened? Who is this?"

"His name is Lewis. He was Rickard's personal sorcerer."

"You brought him in?" Gwaine sounded delighted.

"Yes-with more than a little help from Emrys."

Gaius' eyebrows rose, "I'm less surprised by that than I ought to be."

Placing Lewis on the cot in the corner of the room, he accepted the goblet Gwaine was holding out gratefully and ran through what he saw Emrys do. Gaius didn't seem too concerned.

After a beat of silence in which they all retreated to the table, Mordred stated, "So he's a woman now."

"Yes." Gaius agreed.

"She's even scarier-and I firmly believed that wasn't possible."

Gwaine grinned, "Yes."

"Okay. Glad we all agree."

"How did you catch Rickard?" Gwaine asked, pouring them all more wine, "Don't spare a single detail."

\--

Arthur’s final meeting with the council went considerably smoother than expected. Over the last two years he had made a particular effort to ensure his own supporters were moved into positions of influence, but for stability there had to be links to the past. There were men he worked with each day that he knew hadn’t just benefited from the curbing of magic within Camelot, but genuinely believed it ought to be eradicated.

Something Arthur didn’t fight too hard to contest. Despite his determination to make all things fair, he knew that magic was an unpredictable element and it was something he would never truly be able to control. He was a man. The things he knew and could impact upon were primarily tangible. In truth most of his repeal was guesswork, informed by druid’s and magic users he didn’t know and couldn’t trust.

Gwen’s approach had been more severe than his, and they had debated long into the night about the concessions they ought to make, and to whom. Arthur believed the magic users that had lived within Camelot and been forced to flee were owed reparations, while the others that had travelled hoping for haven should apply for citizenship and a position allocated to them. Guinevere was determined that all should apply no matter where they claim to come from and men like Mordred assigned to ensure their integration with non magical people took place without incident.

In the end Arthur followed his instincts and decided Camelot had to make reparations somewhere. They weren’t accountable to all people, but he would ensure a separate trust was set up for magical users to apply for funding if they felt they had been particularly betrayed by The Crown. Merlin would have wanted Camelot to foster action and apology, not sow the seeds of alienation and mistrust. No matter how well founded.

“We need a celebration.” Gwaine declared.

After an achingly long day of final negotiation, he’d dumped his crown and formal wear and was hiding out with the Knight’s in Gwaine’s surprisingly spacious quarters. Arthur wasn’t sure how he’d been allowed two rooms overlooking the training ground below, but he suspected it was related to the gambling currently taking place around the small table he was ignoring in favour of sitting on Gwaine’s bed, slumping against the wall and knocking back ale.

“For what?” Mordred was leaning over some cards and smoking some leaf he’d certainly picked up from one of the visiting druids.

“Magic is free.” his grin was wide and infectious, “Thirty years of oppression has come to an end. Yes we need a party!”

Leon was chewing a toothpick and he shot Gwaine a disapproving look, “There was, and is, reason to ban magic.”

“You can’t ban what people are.” Percival stated, placing a card on the table, “You’d do as good a job as stopping them from breathing.”

“That’s not exactly true.” Mordred said in a distracted voice, as he put down a card, “Practically anyone can do magic. It’s like learning an instrument or taking up a weapon-some have greater affiliation for it than others. What’s rarer is people being born magical.”

Elyan eyed him closely before asking in a quiet voice, “Which were you?”

There was a low level hum of tension in the background as they tried to play down the significance of the question. Mordred looked perfectly casual as he picked up his pipe and answered in a mild voice as his pale eyes burned, “I was born with magic.”

“What about Merlin?” Percival seemed genuinely curious and Arthur envied his emotional distance.

“Emrys is magic.” Mordred shrugged, shuffling his cards again, “It manifests in us all at different ages, and the younger it happens the more powerful you’re likely to be. Initially I was the hope of my people.” he looked rueful and more than a little bitter, “I could speak without words and lash out with magic at the age of nine.” he paused, seeming to decide how much further he ought to go before simply saying, “Now I’m older I think that my magic manifested too soon, triggered by the trauma of losing my family and being forced to rely on strangers who could have easily secured my execution.”

Arthur remembered those days with absolute clarity. Being young, and frightened of what it meant to betray his father for the first time. Morgana was so sure of herself. Her passion driven towards help rather than harm.

“He almost let you die.” Arthur recalled suddenly.

Mordred smirked as he shot Arthur a look sidelong, “More than once.”

“You were a child.” he said slowly, “Merlin-why would he do that? I never understood…”

Scratching his eyebrow, Mordred put down his cards and twisted round in his seat so they could look at one another clearly, “According to destiny I am your Bane.”

Arthur blinked, “Could you repeat that please?”

“The legends say I am supposed to fall in with Morgana and ensure your ruin.” his expression was mocking and a little cruel, “As a boy Emrys was very close to letting me die because he was wary of taking the risk. The same choice fell to him with your sister. Emrys received early warning that she would slide into evil and acted too late to stop it from happening.”

Arthur’s throat felt dry, “How do you know all of this?”

“Druid’s talk.” he shrugged, “There isn’t a lot to do hiding out in the forest, so we scryed. Morgause spent a lot of time trying to recruit us all into radicalism and she had plenty of stories about the abuse her sister had suffered at Uther’s hands to spark our revolutionary zeal.” he smirked, “Her favourite story was Merlin’s attempt to poison Morgana. She saw it as an act of brutality and ignorance.” his pale eyes sparkled, “Of course we all loved that the Priestesses couldn’t spot True Magic even when they were staring one another in the eye. Her death was celebrated.”

Gwaine held up his drink, “She was a bitch.”

Leon scratched the back of his head, “I feel as though I should arrest you.”

“So do I.” Elyan agreed, he was sitting up straight and looked ready to grab for the weapon he’d left abandoned on the floor on the way in, per Gwaine’s instructions.

“It really wouldn’t be worth your while to try.” Mordred said in a neutral enough voice, as he picked up his cards once more and twisted back around to the game, “Not only am I innocent of all charges, the cuffs wouldn’t hold me. I’d be returned to my duty before you could even dream of stopping me.”

Arthur looked deep into his cup, bit his lip, “How much more do you know?”

“About Emrys?” Mordred questioned, “Nothing I have the right to speak of. Our interactions were limited until you made me a Knight of Camelot. Who and what he was before is beyond my knowing.”

Arthur accepted that. Yet more pieces to the puzzle. He wondered if it would ever end-this unveiling of the things Merlin had done for ten years without his knowledge. Poisoning Morgana...he wouldn't have thought him capable of that.

They had a bond of their own, and Merlin was always concerned about her wellbeing. How long had they battled one another in the shadows while he went about his business, marrying Gwen and becoming King of Camelot. The vastness of it all.

"Don't dwell on it Princess." Gwaine's voice was low as he dropped down on the bed beside him.

"Every time I think I've grasped the extent of his secrets, I find more." he drained his ale and held out his tankard for more which Gwaine fetched with a roll of his eyes.

"That's because you keep hearing it all third hand." Gwaine said, handing him another full tankard and settling back down.

"It's not as though I can hear it first hand!" he cried, "So this is all I have."

Gwaine looked sympathetic, "Look-he hasn't vanished for good and if something happens I know he'll be by your side in a heartbeat."

Arthur ran a hand through his hair, sighed, "Guinevere will never allow us alone again."

Gwaine pursed his lips and quickly glanced at Mordred who was clearly listening closely, "I don't think he's in a place to care about what the Queen does or doesn't want."

Arthur raised an eyebrow and sighed, "Excellent. Of course."

A sudden groan broke out from the table and Mordred smirked as he pulled over his winnings. Gwaine very loudly accused him of using magic to cheat and in retaliation Mordred set his ale on fire. Bursting into laughter, Gwaine threw it aside and snatched his pipe. A chase broke out and Arthur watched with wry amusement as Mordred threw Gwaine up against the wall using magic and took his pipe back.

"See. Cheater." Gwaine said victoriously.

"Shut up Gwaine." Mordred returned to his seat at the table and grinned, "Another round?"


	7. Chapter 7

The mood was jubilant as she wandered among the camps. Men and women relieved that they were now free to practice their beliefs without the threat of death. Children talking excitedly about becoming a Knight like Mordred-who was something of a celebrity in his own right.

It was cloying, and wrong and her magic loathed their childish optimism.

"Can I help you with anything?" a kind voice asked.

Morgana was in her hag guise, curled over and limping as she edged around the walls of Camelot. Shaking her head she rasped, "No. No."

The idiot woman cocked her head and stepped closer, "It's a great day, is it not? Magic is free once more."

"Arthur Pendragon is a fool!" she spat, unable to stop that endless low rush of hate she felt for her brother, "He knows nothing about magic!"

"His sister was magic." she looked nonplussed.

"Which means what, precisely?" she spat, hobbling as fast as this body could allow to poke her hard in the shoulder, "He knows nothing of its glory, or beauty, or superiority."

The woman brushed her hand away with a mild expression, "Then what would you prefer?"

"Vengeance." she hissed, dropping the hag skin with one surge of anger so she stood tall and youthful once more. The idiot woman didn't react to her unveiling. Merely raised one eyebrow.

"You sing the same old song Morgana." she drawled, "I fear no one will be listening once the gates of Camelot open in but two days."

Morgana glared, outraged by the insolence, “You think Arthur matters? People see the crown, and the crown has taken innocent life for decades. It matters not who wears it now.”

“In that case, all of us should have our own laurels.” her right hand twisted loosely and on the brow of every man, woman and child appeared a circlet in all of Camelot. It’s style a loose reflection of its owner, “If it is an object alone on which we place so much faith.”

Morgana felt cold. Without thinking her fingers shot up to her forehead, where something heavy sat. When she rested a fingertip against the metal it immediately bled and she hissed, a terrible dread settling on her heart as she looked more closely at the woman that had found her. Beautiful, dark haired, pale skinned. Sensuous. Lips too red, eyes too intent. Powerful. Dangerous.

“Merlin.” she breathed.

Merlin’s lip twisted at the side, “Minerva, actually, but it’s fascinating that you chose that name first.”

Morgana’s magic surged, the thrill stronger now than it had once been. Morgana stared, and stared, unable to articulate her betrayal. She had loved Merlin. Trusted him over Gwen. Let him into her life, into her bed, and he had tried to kill her in return.

“I don’t care what he’s offering you.” she declared, as the celebrating druids went quiet, searching out the source of their new treasure, “You belong with me!”

Minerva’s eyebrows shot up and she grinned, it was warm, and somehow naughty, as though they were colluding on something they shouldn’t have been, “You? How could that possibly be true? For you to find peace Arthur must be dead. For everyone else to have peace he must be alive.”

Morgana stepped forward and gripped her hand, magic fluttering eagerly at the touch, “You will never be happy.”

The look she received was long, and sad, followed up with a clear, determined, “I know, but that doesn’t change anything.”

“Why not!” fire flared higher as her anger lashed out across the camp, “I want what you do, for magic to be equal again. For persecution of innocents to be avenged.” there was a drawing away but Morgana held fast, “Don’t pretend you don’t feel rage. At what Uther did. The lives he destroyed, because I know that you do. I know that you feel it most!”

“Yes, and what would you have me do?” she demanded.

“Arthur hates magic!” she hissed with conviction, “All of this, it is for you! An incentive for you to return to his side, under his heel, and once he has you he will take it all away. Chain you up and put you on the pyre. Like Uther would have done.”

Minerva gazed at her with a desolate expression and Morgana’s heart thudded. Emyrs had long featured in her nightmares, but nameless, faceless. A promise and a threat of her own demise. Not once with all her supposed skills at lies and manipulations had she spotted him. So close to everything. Forgotten as a servant, his own nature freeing him from conventional expectations. So easy to be someone else, hidden from view, strengthening Camelot in ways no one had ever expected.

“Morgana.” Minerva’s hand reached out to her cheek and she drew in desperately, towards her warmth, and power, “I love you.”

“And I love you!” without thinking she kissed her, him, like that time years ago when she had been in need of someone else outside the court. Someone that would understand, someone that cared, and felt her heart break once more when Minerva gently detached.

Keeping their foreheads bowed together, Minerva said softly against her lips, “But you will always choose death over life.”

Morgana squeezed her eyes shut, “Arthur has killed.”

“I have killed.”

“Why?”

Morgana felt a smile, arms pulling her close, “Because they threatened him.”

Her anger flared again, white hot and sickening, but she managed to keep her voice from shaking, “Arthur is the reason you have punished us. Your kin. And he will never, ever, see you beyond the corruption of your magic. You are more than that, Emrys. You are everything.”

Minerva moved in her arms, a subtle ripple that had them pressed chest to chest, her warmth and presence a relief after so much time alone. Gods she was sick of being alone and the sudden knowledge of her loss made her breathless.

"I am one person." she said softly, rubbing her nose against Morgana's cheek, "And I am trying to do the right thing."

"You think I am not!" Morgana hissed, attempting to pull away only to find her wrists gripped tight, "Camelot is the most powerful nation in Albion and it earned its place through blood and fear. Magic has no home here. Our demise is inevitable!"

"Do you not see Morgana? That the reasons you revere magic are the same as those that oppose it? And neither of you can speak the language of reconciliation?"

"And you can?" she tore away, blinking back reluctant tears, "You are a slave! A servant to one weak, foolish man!"

Then before Minerva could reply, a roar shuddered across the clearing. Fire raining down from the sky. Morgana grinned. Minerva's expression barely shifting as the Druids started to shout, trying to take command of a situation that had already spiralled far out of control.

\--

Arthur had been in the middle of dinner when magic descended suddenly on the court. An official feast to celebrate Garrick's arrival that echoed with the tense promise of magic, and it's newly determined role in Camelot.

The sudden appearance of a crown on each person in the room was met with delighted laughter. As though it was a game. The first place he looked was Gwaine who had tugged off his trick immediately and was gazing at it with a bemused expression. Gently setting aside his fork Arthur searched the room as Mordred leant over.

"It is him, Sire."

Arthur's heart pounded, "Is he near?"

There was a sudden crack of lightening and without thinking Arthur stood from his throne and strode away, ignoring the chatter of the court and impatient hisses from his wife. The moment he was free of the room he broke into a run.

There was the clatter of armour as the fastest Knights attempted to catch up. Through the keep. A turn at mid town, into lower, pursuing the gathering storm only to skid to a complete stop when he saw it.

The white dragon. Rearing back and roaring fire at a single figure who remained untouched, the dragon's breath parting around her. The Druids were hanging back, mouths hanging open as a voice shouted low and clear over the roar of the dragon.

Like the words of magic, but older, more primal. Something nudged in Arthur's memory as the dragon stopped and the second figure, the one he hadn't even noticed yet, started to shriek.

"What magic is this!?"

"I am a Dragon Lord-" her lips twisted in amusement as she held out one hand to the white dragon, "or Lady, I suppose. I bought Aithusa into the world."

Arthur felt a strong desire to stagger, another blow, another lie.

"They died out!" Morgana hissed, "Uther hunted them!"

"I am the last." she spoke softly as the dragon, Aithusa, padded away from Morgana towards Merlin, "The gift will die with me."

"No!" there were tears of fury in Morgana's eyes as she bent over, pleading, "Merlin-"

"Minerva." she corrected, smiling down at the little dragon who was now rubbing it's nose against her neck.

"-you do not have to throw it all away. Join me. I will be your Queen and we can unite Albion under magic. You will have a family-I will give you a family! I know that is what you have always longed for most!"

Minerva's expression was a heartbreaking image of sorrow even as long fingers gently stroked Aithusa's neck, "I am more magic than man, or woman, these days Morgana. Emrys is a title and a curse. I am a weapon forged by destiny and I will see that it comes about as it ought. We cannot be together. Our natures would always pull us apart."

Arthur watched Morgana take that blow as though it was his own. Rage drying her tears as lucidity was replaced with resolve and bloodlust. It was an expression they had both inherited from Uther.

Nodding, once, she drew up and instead of saying anything further threw a spell at Merlin, Minerva, whose face transformed at once from one of exquisite sadness to grim resolve. The spell was battered back, the dragon ordered to flank her as she took and transformed each wave of power Morgana threw her way.

The ground at their feet crackled, mist was gathering as Minerva and Morgana used the very earth as a weapon. It started to rain, a reflection of Minerva's mood, her frustration at Morgana's continual evasions.

When he saw a flash of steel Arthur reacted before he could think. Running directly towards the battle. Minerva saw him, shouted, "No!" and he was pushed back onto the floor with a sudden burst of invisible energy.

The dragon roared as Minerva shouted in outrage, the ground beneath them shaking as she threw a wave of white fire towards Morgana who shouted and disappeared. Arthur had time to rise to his feet and watch as Minerva pulled a dagger from her side. Collapsing suddenly to the ground before he could reach her, his way blocked by a hissing, spitting white dragon who threw fire at anyone attempting to get near her.

Trying not to cry out in frustration Arthur ran his fingers through his hair, gripping his scalp, as he saw a hand grip Aithusa's claw before they too disappeared in a rush of golden fire.

Stumbling back he found his shoulders gripped by two pairs of strong arms, and hundreds of eyes turned in his direction. What could he say? Stunned to silence he went on his haunches to pick up the dagger, a long, wicked thing that didn't gleam correctly in the light. It was sticky with fresh blood and when he sniffed it his heart stopped. It was poisoned.

Morgana. Never one to take chances.

Gripping the hilt of the weapon hard he stood up and scanned the crowd. He could feel the black rage simmering in his heart, the snarl that had drawn his lips back from his teeth. Some of the children started, drawing back into their parents.

"Morgana remains our enemy." he declared, voice carrying in the stillness, "Emrys our ally. When she returns be prepared to heed her call. Magic is hers and she stands shoulder to shoulder with Camelot." he held up the knife, "She has spilled blood for us this day. The ground is sacred. Remember that when you choose your side." and with that he strode away, increasingly tired of his powerlessness in the face of her magic, her secrets. 

Gods, be alive. Be safe. If anyone was impossible enough to survive a poisoned blade it was her. It had to be. Otherwise Arthur would be left in a world he had created without understanding what it was all for. 


	8. Chapter 8

Six weeks later Camelot was thrown open to her allies for a ball to formally welcome magic, and informally renegotiate a few treaties with other royalty and nobles across Albion.

The hall was warm with candles and fire, Arthur was sweating beneath his formalwear and struggling to keep a smile fixed on his face. King Cenred was making bawdy jokes and hassling the servants. Guinevere wasn't talking to him. Garrick was as sneering and subversive as ever. At least there was Queen Annis, and Princess Elena to take the edge off.

He was sharing stories and laughing with Elena about badly behaved horses when the doors were thrown open and another announcement made. Arthur searched the room, everyone was here.

"The Lady Minerva, of Camelot." was called out by the Master of Ceremonies and the room fell utterly silent.

Arthur tried to keep his face composed as she strode alone through open doors, her beauty utterly staggering. Tall, still a little broad in the shoulder with her long black hair falling scandalously free over her back and shoulders. The most richly and provocatively dressed in the room, she couldn't have made a more clear challenge to Guinevere if she plucked the crown from her head.

There was a very sarcastic bow in his direction before she caught of a goblet of wine from a swaying servant and headed directly towards Gwaine who was grinning outright at her audacity.

Guinevere looked at him furiously and he shrugged. It's not like he could ask her to leave. They couldn't exactly make a scene with everyone watching their every move. So he did what he was supposed to, returned to his conversation with Elena and tried to keep his staring to a minimum.

Which was a challenge, considering her choice of dress. Clinging, sheer golden material teased at the shape of her rounded hips, flat stomach and full breasts. The image made more formal and controversial with the addition of a cape come trail falling down her back. A narrow shock of Pendragon red that made her seem both warrior and bride.

The thought of getting his hands on that blood red cape and knotting up her narrow wrists, draping it across pure white skin was doing some very worrying things to his cock. The last time he’d been this aroused he’d witnessed Merlin fuck Gwaine within an inch of his life against a tree. Twisting rage and jealousy with affection and arousal were part of how he was used to interpreting relationship with Merlin. Minerva. And that was before the magic had even gotten involved.

Quite how he managed to maintain a conversation was beyond him.

They circled one another all evening. Arthur talking dutifully with the nobles, Gwen at his side, as she slunk through the crowd. Talking to the servants. Drawing all the magic users towards her with effortless maneuvering which reminded Arthur forcefully that she hadn't been a silent witness to the court and secret sorcerer for nothing.

Everywhere she went there was a frisson of energy. A tangible feeling of excitement that Emrys was here, and real, and undoubtedly on the side of Camelot. It was more effective than any battle would have been to lure those wavering allies, suspicious of magic and wary of change, directly onto their side.

"Show us something!" cried out the eager voice of a little Druid boy, clinging to the doorway.

Minerva turned from her conversation with King Cenred and grinned.

"How did they get in Arthur?" Gwen demanded under her breath as Minerva intimated to Leon to stand down with a nod and a smile, making it clear that they were welcome here, "He's undermining your orders!"

"She." Arthur corrected, "And she always has." he had to tamp down a grin as a group of ten children broke through the nobles to corner her at the edge of the room, "I don't see why things should be different now."

Gwen's eyes narrowed, "If it was anyone else."

"But it isn't." he said in a cool, pointed voice, "And they aren't doing any harm."

"Are we to receive another show, my Lady?" Queen Annis asked, her amused, dry voice carrying over the chatter of children.

Minerva looked up, she'd gone down on her haunches to be on eye level with all the excitable children. Shooting the Queen a wry look, she rose gracefully to her feet, flicked her wrists out and the hall fell into darkness.

“Once upon a time there was a lonely dragon.” her voice, low and lyrical carried evenly across the hall followed by a burst of involuntary sighs and titters of surprised laughter as the image of a dragon suddenly burst into life overhead. It was red and gold, twisting and turning playfully, leaving a loose trail of red sparks in the darkness.

“Every day it did the same thing. Flew from one mountain range to another. Hunting, sleeping and growing bigger and bigger.” the little dragon grew larger and more fierce before their eyes as it jumped from one rafter to another, “For years and years it travelled, its wings singing with the sky, riding the horizon, fire bursting from its lungs in frustration and exaltation.” the dragon released a sudden roar and threw the impression of fire at the Druid children who jumped and laughed delightedly, “For no one trusted the dragon. The people feared it, unable to see beyond the tough ruby scales and shining golden eyes.” the dragon brightened and rippled as it swept across the room, to land on Arthur’s throne, “Until one day he met a boy as it stopped for water in the forest.” a slim figure with notable blonde hair and blue eyes appeared opposite the dragon, “The boy was bold, fearless, and he told the dragon that he had no right to drink from the stream. The dragon disagreed and they bickered for so long about the rights of the dragon that the sun set and night began to fall.”

In the darkness above them a dusky white moon and stars started to shimmer overhead, glittering like precious jewels. There were more sighs of happiness and wonder, as the dragon and the boy settled around a fire, the movement of the boy’s hand and incline of the dragon’s head hinting at animated conversation.

“They shared everything that night.” Minerva’s voice was soft and full of feeling, “The dragon spoke of the world he had travelled, the things he had seen in the past and the future. The boy spoke of his family, his father, and sister. The mother that he had lost.” Arthur gripped his goblet harder but otherwise continued to listen, straining towards the sound of Minerva’s voice and the deadly yearning it provoked, “When the sun rose and the boy slept, the dragon blessed him with magic. It was a promise of protection and good fortune. It would link them together even as they remained apart, for the dragon knew his place was not with the boy. It could not be, their paths would forever be separate.”

The dragon breathed a soft, golden breath over the sleeping boy before pausing, stretching out its wings and flying away. The boy sat, and stood, and Arthur’s heart flooded that such small actions could convey such loss and sadness.

"The dragon continued on its journey and the boy grew into a man. Handsome, strong and noble." Arthur's face flooded with heat as the boy strode to the centre of the room, shoulders bulky, a definite swagger in his long strides, "The boy married a beautiful girl from the local village." A shiver of a woman bearing a resemblance to Gwen appeared opposite the shimmering man, their hands clasped as petals blew suddenly through the room. Fragrant and quite real. One of the children literally squealed in delight.

"However, this happiness was not to last." her voice was soft and grave, "For there was a wicked king. Intent on expanding his territory. A band of soldiers raced through the man's home, burning everything in their path."

The shadow of a village set upon by flame and the distinctive thunder of hooves echoed through the hall. The sound of steel and screams a disconcerting cacophony in the darkness.

"The man was an accomplished fighter but even he couldn't overcome the might of the wicked king. He was arrested for defiance and thrown into prison, left with nothing but the memories of his family to keep him company."

There was a sniffle of tears from one of the children and Arthur frowned. Worried where this story was leading.

"Yet the man's spirit could not be broken.” her voice strengthened, thrumming with passion and strident belief, “The treatment from the guards was cruel, and he took more than his fair share when protecting the weak, the innocent. Those imprisoned by the wicked king for speaking out against the many crimes being committed in the futile pursuit of power.”

The hall tensed at this pronouncement as the next images seemed to show the passage of time. The man growing ragged, long hair blonde hair, a rough beard as he moved confidently through the impression of a prison. There were followers in his wake. The people he protected.

“When the wicked king heard of the man, and how he was gathering the loyalty of his enemies in the one place beyond the veil he thought them truly defeated he planned a violent retribution.” the wicked king, an imposing figure of twisting shadows was seen pouring fire on the prison as the man was dragged by the guards towards a pyre at dawn. The soft colour of the sky was heartbreaking, as was the man’s lank motionless after so much bright and exciting activity.

“The man lost all hope. The few he had tried to save were gone, his family murdered, and now he stood alone and friendless as he was strapped to the pyre.” the room was utterly silent, not even a shift of fabric as the story played out, “Or so he believed.” there was a glitter of ruby and the children jumped and clapped, though her voice remained clear and sombre, “The dragon felt his despair, his suffering, and in revenge destroyed the wicked king and freed his friend before harm could come to him.”

The man seemed to stumble, the pyre and the dawn faded until they stood alone in the centre of the room once again. They stared at one another, dragon and man, until the man opened his arms and embraced the dragon. Arthur felt warmth spread through his skin at the vividity of the image.

“There were calls for the man to take the wicked king’s place, for surely anyone that had the love of a dragon was meant to be king.” there was a playful tone in her voice, a ribbing towards the surrounding nobility that only she could make, “The man, however, was tired of shackles and longed to be free. To learn of other lands, see other seas, discover more horizons.” her voice was decidedly wistful as they all watched the man mount onto the back of the dragon, hair short once again, shoulders broad and there was a cheer from the children as they swept through the room once more, dragon fire filling the hall with unexpected light and heat.

“The lonely dragon was lonely no more, and the man was free. To choose the life he wanted once more.”

The dragon and the man exploded into a shimmer of sparks and the room abruptly filled with light once more. The candles too bright after the darkness. The children cheered, and the rest of the room exploded in applause. Minerva smiled, one of the old, unmistakable bright grins that Arthur feared he had lost forever.

“I think that calls for music!” Gwaine called and Arthur’s grin made it clear he agreed. Their eyes met over the noise and lingered. Such sadness beneath the smile before the Druid parents rushed into the hall, searching for their errant children.

The formality disintegrated after that. Some of the Druids drifted towards the music, the younger nobles were charmed by the children and someone decided that the servants could get in on the drinking. It was extremely raucous and unlike any party to grace the hall of Camelot since it had been built. It was delightful, and when it seemed Gwen was sufficiently busy with Leon he took the opportunity to dart through the area claimed informally by a host of dancers to get to where Minerva was swaying and laughing with Gwaine.

“Excuse me.” he interrupted with a false smile, Minerva’s face fell, eyes narrowing, “But may I have this dance?”

Minerva stepped back, sweeping her eyes over him before nodding once, “I suppose.”

Arthur held out his hand and waited patiently until she took it. In the end her lips quirked and she grabbed his wrist, tugged him in and latched one hand onto his waist, the other around his neck as the music suddenly and abruptly shifted into something soft and slow.

Minerva glared over his shoulder at someone, “We’ve walked directly into Mordred’s trap.”

“I’m less frightened of Mordred than I am of Gwen.” Arthur drawled, quite content now he finally had his hands on her, “I mean, I’m aware I frequently called you a girl but that’s no excuse for you to actually become one.”

She shifted her hips in a frankly suggestive way and shot him a cool sharp grin, eyes sparkling, “I’m rather enjoying it. People take you less seriously as a woman-no wonder Morgana got away with so much for so long.”

Arthur gripped her waist harder and she flinched and gasped, “What?”

Minerva moved his hand up, “A knife was there a short time ago.”

“I know.” it was currently hidden in his boot, still bloody, because he couldn’t bring himself to wipe clean the last evidence of her presence, “I’m surprised you’re still alive.”

“I think I’m rather difficult to kill.” she murmured, a shadow lurking in her eyes, “About as difficult as you, I suspect.”

Arthur knew he shouldn’t smile, but he couldn’t help himself, considering all the history and now lack of secrets between them it was wildly inappropriate, “Yes, well I thought you had something to do with that.”

She grinned back and it was so bright and pleased and naughty it was a sudden balm on everything that had felt sore and bruised in her absence, “I might have had a little, yes.”

“You are aware that if we weren’t surrounded by hundreds of people we would be screaming at one another.”

“Yes.” she was so warm in his arms, moved against him so naturally he was finding his anger a difficult thing to hold onto, “Why do you think I chose to make my entrance now?”

“Are you planning on staying this time?” Arthur wanted to sound casual, but he couldn’t help the smallness of his voice, the desperate hope in it.

She paused in her steps, body tensing all over and Arthur knotted one hand in the red trail on her back to keep her near in case she suddenly pulled away, “Minerva.”

“I can’t.” she said softly, and she looked so utterly heartbroken Arthur reacted on instinct and pulled her ever closer, “Please-Arthur-” she tried to pull away but he held her firm, “No. This isn’t right.”

“I need you to stay.” he spoke into her hair, because he daren’t look into her face, “There are hundreds of magic users here-Morgana is readying for war-and I cannot do this without you.”

She trembled in his arms, “Camelot has me, Arthur, but I cannot return to the castle. Not to live and serve you every second as I did in the past.”

“You’re Emrys.” he couldn’t hold back the awe in his voice, “I wouldn’t dare shackle you.”

She took a slow, deep breath against his neck, “Do you mean it?”

Arthur closed his eyes and wrapped his arms fully around her body, so different from Guinevere’s, she fit as though made for him, “Of course I mean it. I wouldn’t dare, not to you. Never to you.”

He felt the moment she relaxed, trusting his words. Long, slim arms tightening around his waist. They gave up the pretense of dancing long ago and Arthur allowed himself this long, much needed moment of relief. She was here. She was Camelot’s. If he could convince her to stay, to take rooms, and arrange some formal role within the kingdom that suited them both that would be enough. It would have to be.

“I need to leave, Arthur.” she pulled back and it was with great force of will that he let her, “I will be back, but for now I have to leave.”

Arthur still had her wrist and he could feel the anger that fuelled his desperation, “Why? You have lied to me for years-I’m entitled to an explanation.”

Her eyelids flickered as she ignored the sheen of tears, pulling up, becoming tall and almost regal but he suspected that was mostly related to her height, and charisma, rather than anything suddenly inate, “Your wife has something she must tell you. When she has, you will understand why I can’t stand to be here. Not anymore.” and with one decisive tug she pulled away, and left, her cloak fluttering as lightning suddenly struck outside. No doubt a reflection of her mood-and Arthur’s.

When he sought out his Queen she looked furious and he decided he was quite done with this party. The music was still playing, the Druids had scattered and many of the nobles left were now making a discreet but hasty exit now they had seen all they needed to see. They would be quite fine without him.

Retiring to his chambers, he’d gotten as far as removing his robe when Guinevere appeared, “What was all that?”

Arthur took a sip of wine, eyes glassy, “What are you keeping from me?”

She blinked as though struck, “What?”

“You heard me.” he fit one hand on his hip, watching his wife as she paused, calculating before coming to a decision.

“I’m with child.”

Arthur took that in, sipped from his drink before asking carefully, “Gaius has confirmed this?”

“Yes.” she glared, as though daring him to disagree, to argue, deny, something, “Everything is progressing as it should.”

Arthur felt happiness flare. Joy and satisfaction that his legacy would continue. That the gossiping about Gwen’s inadequacy would come to an end. The rest was ashes. For one moment he’d held Emrys in his arms and he felt the serenity of being whole for the first time since they’d met. Since Merlin had challenged him on the training field, without shame or fear. Only the belief of someone that knew without doubt they were in the right. The challenge in that moment-the first time in memory someone had told him no. It was always no.

“Good.” he smiled, and it didn’t feel mechanical, “This is-” his joy was a spark and he put the goblet aside, “This is great news.” he crossed the space between them and pulled Guinevere into his arms and unlike some she went willingly, “This is the best thing that could have possibly happened.”

Gwen nestled close, she was slight, but strong, her body warm and inviting and he kissed her. Grinning. He was going to be a father. Sometime very, very soon there would be a child. A Prince or Princess that was part him, part Guinevere and-how did Minerva know? Perhaps he should be worried, but he knew instinctively that the answer would be one he wouldn’t like. It was a proven trend, after all. So he did the unnatural. Pushed her back and focussed truly on his wife.

Laughing, he picked her from the floor and spun her round. Camelot would survive, and thrive, and they had a future now. Something outside of them to love. Something innocent. Something new. Gods only knew it was about time. Guinevere kissed him, smiling, and they clasped their hands together. United for the first the first time in what felt like years, as the storm continued to throb and shatter through the world outside.


End file.
